“Mom, why are you crying?” Lani asks me in a whisper, trying to talk unnoticed.  I look down at her as she is sitting beside me under the green tent, three rows back.

“I’m sad my uncle has passed away,” I answer as I dab a crunchy napkin onto my cheeks, trying to wipe away the evidence.  Its rough texture irritates my saturated skin.  

On our way here, my husband and I tried to prepare our daughters for this somber event.  We explained we are attending a funeral.   Informing them it’s a sad occasion, not a party, so it’s a time you have to be quiet and respectful.  I hoped they will notice how everyone else is acting and follow suit.  Quite surprisingly, they have, but my younger daughter’s comprehension of the event is falling short.

 Lani is 5-years-old and doesn’t fully understand the meaning of a death.  Her grandfather passed away six months earlier; even then she was somewhat oblivious to his passing.  He had been plagued with cancer her entire life, so she never got close to him.  Her breadth of knowledge and experience is limited.  I understand her naïve thoughts.                             

Lani tries to pull off my sunglasses and I grab them before my mascara smeared eyes are revealed.  I believe she is a bit uncomfortable about my present state yet curious to get a clear view of my discontent.

“When are you going to stop?” she pleads with me in a hushed voice.

“Soon, I hope,” I say as I gulp back a cry.  I quickly wonder if I am being too loud or am I just embarrassing her. 

My cousin, Hayne stands before us to speak about his father. He looks out at the crowd.  He pauses and places a hand on his chest.  Unable to talk, he looks down at the ground.   Watching his raw emotions, and his inability to speak, makes me flat out lose it.  My face is flooding with tears and I try to suppress my crying with all my might. My once rough napkin has now turned into a soft moist tissue soothing my red cheeks.

Lani’s growing concern for me becomes apparent when she takes my hand into hers.  She is taking care of me for a change.   In this moment, her loving touch has all of my attention.  My eyes focus on our entwined hands.  It gives me a much needed break from the unfolding somber occasion and my mind loses its train of thought.  I smile at her to acknowledge her caring gesture. 

The incredible power of a human touch can alter an anguished mood and that is what happened to me.   My daughter calmed my emotions to the point where I am able to maintain my composure throughout the rest of my uncle’s graveside service.   Lani understands more than I had previously thought and she deserves more credit than I was giving her.  My daughter gave me exactly what I needed.  Thank you my sweet daughter.