Julianna has a particular speech pattern where she claims ownership of everyone.  It’s “my Boy” and “my Yaya.”  And I find myself thinking in those terms, because my Nicky got hurt.  Not that he’s exclusively mine, but I find myself feeling especially possessive and protective of him now.

I’m the second oldest of a zillion grandchildren, and my aunt Cathy’s kids were some of my closest cousins.  Her oldest son, Nicky, is ten years younger than I am, and I grew up babysitting for him, his little brother Shane and his baby sister Lea.  My mother and his mother are super close, and we spend a ridiculous amount of time over at their house.  Nick was born when I was ten, and I was primed for a new baby in the family.  He was MY baby, I loved nothing more than to be put in charge of watching him, and spent hours watching him sleep, and taking him for walks around the bog and watching Winnie the Pooh videos with him.  I babysat them every weekend for years, and I still think of them as much younger than they actually are.  For example, Nic has gotten married, fought in two wars and fathered three children.  And I still refer to him in my head as Nicky as opposed to the much more manly and grown up sounding Nic.

He was playing in a pool with a bunch of family and friends Saturday night, and somehow, got really hurt.  Really, really hurt.  It’s a neck injury, and he’s still in ICU, awaiting surgery, and it’s all I can think about.  His wife, his little girls – his oldest daughter Rosie is a few weeks younger than my Samilicious, and his twins are a few years younger.

It’s just horrible and I’m so scared for him.  For his mom, his sister, his brother, his dad, his wife, and mostly, for his girls – because they love their daddy so much and I’m so afraid of what the future will be like.

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