On Dying, A Parody (Sort of)

“I’m going to be super dramatic for a minute, then I’m gonna tie that drama to current events, and I’ll end with a set of directions.” - Is an actual sentence I thought, while I was brainstorming for this entry ... Buckle up, buttercup. 

Friday I am flying to California, sans children. I repeat, without my kids. I’m not even going with my husband. I’m celebrating my friend, Nikia, on a fun and fabulous bachelorette weekend. I’ll prance around Palm Springs without having to buckle a car seat, chase Navy from the street, or explain to Jackson that he should stop filling every single second with his talking. Nobody will touch my boobs (a straight up victory to anybody who, like me, has nursed for 233 years.) I’m packing for one, and it’s magical and also ... terrifying.

I  know lots of parents go on trips like this. In fact, it seems more abnormal that I haven’t traveled without children. So it should come as no surprise that I have what they call, the separation anxiety. You might think what I’m about to tell you is an exaggeration, or that I’m quite possibly crazy. Unfortunately it’s all true. And worse - I am very likely a little crazy. (A lot.)

I have been convinced, for months now, that I am going to die on the plane. To California or back home, I’m not sure. But I’ve 100% resigned to the fact that I’m going to die. I’ve gone back and forth between telling myself “This is not true Taylor, chill out. You’ll be fine, and have a *much needed* great time, and be back home to vacuum crumbs in no time.” And then the pendulum swings and I think, “It’s different this time. This is your gut intuition. Listen to it. You’re going to die, trust your gut ... This is not anxiety like everybody is telling you. Do the right thing. CANCEL THE TRIP.”

I have talked in depth about this with Johnny, my Mom, a few close friends, and I morbidly wrote an email to an account I made for my kids - telling them how much I love them, just in case. #morbid #somorbid

So here’s the thing. I really do not want to die. It’s been a lifelong desire of mine to turn 100; Dying would be a super huge blow to that goal, plus you know, the whole motherless children thing. But it has made me hyper aware, for months, that my greatest fear is losing a child, or having them lose me.

And hey guys, this is what is happening at the border right now. Parents are losing their children - think about that for a second. The agony of being detained and not having a single clue as to where your children are, in a foreign country. (That you quite possibly came to in search of a little thing called help.) And worse to imagine, are the kids. Kids sleeping on hard surfaces (read: floors) with insulation/aluminum blankets, in cages, with no clue as to where their Mommies and Daddies are - or if they’ll (ever) see them again. These babies must be scared out of their minds - traumatized to their core. America. This is ATROCIOUS.

I’m super liberal, and I know it. But this isn’t about parties. This is about morality. And this is straight up immoral. My friend, Woody, said it best, “The kids are being held hostage as a bargaining chip against their parents in concentration camps, HELLOOOOOOOOO.” He has claimed for eons that he doesn’t have feelings, so if a feeling-less monster like him (kidding, he’s a secret softie) can see this ... it’s pretty freaking blatant.

Don’t feel helpless and wilt. I know it’s tempting. I did it for about a week. Look at the images. Read the articles. Listen to our Attorney General use the same Biblical verse that was used to justify slavery ... and GET OUTRAGED. Call your senators and house representatives. There are websites that will link your reps to you if you don’t know who they are. Or email them. Or get an app like ResistBot. Just - be in contact. These kids (and parents, for that matter) deserve better. And we have to take matters into our own hands and demand laws change to protect them.

So to summarize ... I’ve had anxiety for weeks imagining my kids not having me - in the comfort of their own home, in the arms of their loving Father, where I know they will be surrounded by love and support and would still somehow turn out okay. Imagining that has kept me awake for nights on end, left my crying for hours, and has lead me to writing awful blogs (why hello there!) about dying. So be a human, and put yourselves in the shoes of these separated families ... truly ... could there be anything more cruel than to separate a mother/father from their child? To let that child not have any idea what is happening, or why?

In the (unfortunate) (and predicted) event that I do die on this trip - I hate to gloat, but well, you guys were wrong, and it had indeed been a gut hunch, an intuition, the voice of God, etc ... Please help Johnny accomplish the following:

• Make sure my kids grow up knowing that I was obsessed with them. Every single second with them, struggling, exhausted, or in a fit of laughter ... was a gift. I am thankful for them every single day, and they need to be reminded that they had a Mommy that loved them fiercely. (And, always will.)
• Support Johnny. Call him. He is NOT good with dealing with feelers, but don’t assume that just because he is treading water that he’s swimming through life. (Something we’ve unfortunately had to learn first hand through the loss of Robin: regarding, Tom - and how abandoned he has felt.)
• Help the guy pay our bills. I don’t mean financially - but - he won’t even know where to send the money or who to even pay. Help him keep the lights on, even when everything is dark.
• Hey. Remind my kids that I love them. And then take it a step further - and also love them. Hug them. Kiss them. Remind them that they matter, and encourage them to have fun. All I want is for the people I love to live long, healthy, and happy lives. So it’s okay if they dance when a song comes on - or that they giggle and smile. Encourage joy! It doesn’t mean they don’t miss me. I want them to be happy.
• Some of you believe in God. If that is your belief, remind my kids that meet again. (Yeah, that’s right. I’m betting I’ll end up in heaven!) And if you don’t - remind them that our life force is energy, and the passing of my energy is transferred elsewhere ... Like the breeze that dances on their cheek. Or the ray of sunshine that warms their shoulders. Or the very first snowflake of the winter. Remind my kids that my love for them is bigger than life - and it extends well beyond death.
• Call your senators and house representatives and demand that they keep families together. Do it in my honor. Shoot, do it now - while I’m still alive. (And again next week when I’m still *hopefully* alive.)