Jolted by Death, Bound by Love: Why We Talk About the Hard Things

Someone once said to me, "Riaan talks a lot about death and dying." Now, opinions are like farts, but this time I retorted as diplomatically as I could: "He was two years old when he witnessed death, so he's probably going to talk about it for the next twenty." 

If I'm almost forty and still haven't wrapped my head around not having a partner, my seven-year-old is obviously going to crack jokes about death. I am going to allow it until he fully gets it out of his system. In the meantime, if death, dying, widowhood, a fatherless home, and real-life issues trouble you, please keep a 100-mile radius from my son and me. We are vocal and hyperlocal. Cue the clapping for that rhyme! 

On a serious note, death jolted this household. To make matters worse, we are big talkers and highly opinionated. If you have one opinion, we have ten. The only person who gets to criticise my family has to go through me first. These are my monkeys and this is my circus. You have a problem with them? You talk to me. 

A fiercely protective mommy to the rescue, for life. Out!