Separation

Nothing grips my heart more than hearing my daughter's muffled sobs this morning, when my wife had to leave for hospital because of a major operation. That's her own operation, not her patient's. My daughter has been praying for mum since we told her the bad news six months ago.

The separation seized her in a difficult moment, the longest since she were born.

To be honest, we're afraid too.

We decided to bring up this issue during the teacher-parent conference last month. We told class teacher my daughter's symbolic act of throwing sand at the beach. Off the sand goes, and so does her worry about mum's operation - the way we've been taught to dispose our worries in a sealed envelope and putting through the paper shredder. Her teacher then remembered her teaching the class such skill not long ago. "Wow, she has been paying so much attention to my teaching and is putting it in practice." Her teacher was almost in tears when she recounted that, putting a lump in our throats.