If You Cry, I Can’t Concentrate

Last night, I asked Kenzo something that had been sitting quietly in my heart.
“Would you rather see me being strong for you… or see me cry when I feel sad about Dad?”

Without hesitation, he said,

“I want you to be strong, Mummy.”

I asked him gently, “Why?”

And his answer broke me in the softest way:

“Because if you cry, then I can’t concentrate, Mum.”

Such a simple sentence, yet it carries so much.

He’s only six… but somehow he’s already trying to keep it all together - not just for himself, but for me too. He wants to feel safe, steady, like things won’t fall apart if one of us stays strong.

But oh, how I wish I could tell him it’s okay to let it fall apart sometimes. That strength isn’t the absence of tears - it’s the love that holds us through them. Still, I understand. He’s doing the best he can, in the only way he knows how.

And so am I.