my sensitive one

La Princesita (Second to The Throne) is an incredibly sensitive soul.

The moment she was born, my midwife said, "Those are eyes of an old soul." I have had so many people since, even complete strangers, say the same thing.

She is a lovely girl, physically. She has the external beauty I always wished I had, with an inner beauty and ability to feel, emote and empathize that a six year-old perhaps should not yet have. She can reach out to those who need help, and it is a blessing in the correct context (for example, in the schoolyard when someone is left out or has fallen and is crying, she is the one to come to the rescue). However, being such a deeply feeling person, as I can attest, comes with many drawbacks--among them feeling the need to carry the weight and the burdens of the world on her shoulders.

La Princesita is highly capable of emoting appropriately, and is very good with putting her feelings into words. That will help her.

Tonight as we were cuddling up in our bedtime routine, she wanted me to, instead of reading a traditional bedtime story, take out her baby book and look at it with me. So I did, she asked questions, I told stories, and it was lovely. I also made a "Grandparents" page in their baby books but, as my father was no longer alive by the time I had either of my children all I could do was put a photo of my father and I dancing at my wedding; the last time we were together when he was not being hospitalized. She asked who that was, and then asked me to tell her about him.

He was a beautiful man. He was a great teacher. He told jokes. He always kept his students interested by telling bad jokes. He was famous for his bad jokes. He coached basketball and football and even wrestling for a while. He was a good man.

This I told her.

She settled against me and asked me how he died.

I told her that he had had cancer of the liver, but that even though the doctors got all the cancer out there were complications, difficulties, problems that they could not solve, one doctor would prescribe medications that would cause side effects that another doctor would give him a different medication to offset and, because the doctors didn't communicate, this made him very sick until his body couldn't take the abuse anymore.

Then I told her that he had died before I got to him, that I had to fly back on the airplane, then the priest came from the church and we said the Our Father over him and I put my head on his chest as they unplugged the machine that was still making him breathe and his heart beat and cried as I listened to his heart stop.

And mi princesita started to sob.

"I feel so bad for Grandpa M---" she cried.

I just held her. Then I asked her if I told her too much. She looked into my eyes and shook her head "no". But she continued to sob. I told her that Grandpa M--- was not well. That even though his mind said that he wanted to live, his body could no longer fight, he was too sick. And the moment he died, he was no longer sick, no longer in pain, no longer suffering. And that his spirit is still with us, even right here as we speak, and that it gives me a lot of comfort and makes me feel good and secure.

She nodded.

But she cried herself to sleep as I kissed her tears away.