Last night I noticed that my son was acting a bit differently. He seemed perplexed. I could feel his heart beating fast when I hugged him to ask what was wrong. He clearly wanted to tell me what was bugging him. But he hesitated and kept quiet. After assuring him that he can trust me and tell me everything, what I got was just silence and quiet tears.
Part of me wanted to shake it out of him, frustrated that I didn’t know what was happening and consequently not knowing how to help him. It dawned on me however that he is exactly just like me. I keep awfully cold and silent when I am most hurt, to the chagrin of my poor husband. I close off and would rather be on my own. Silence has been and still is my refuge. I seek for it at my saddest and also at my happiest.
Prodding won’t work. But presence does. So I sat him on my lap and just gently stroked his back until his tears were reduced to mere hiccups. I didn’t know how else to be there for him except what I knew best, just being there. He never said anything and just went back to play with his dad and sister. I would’ve done the same thing, moving on from where I left off. The apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree:)