The (Future) Diminishing of Duck

Tonight, Elaina woke up feeling sick and miserable.  She’s had a cold, and it sometimes evolves into a a rough night.  Happily, she’s asleep again.  Heidi and I were there in her room, watching her as she fell back to sleep, and we both smiled at the way she hugged Duck close.

For those who don’t know Duck, he’s Elaina’s best friend.  She used to call him Mmm-Duck, when she was very little.  He goes everywhere with her.  He sleeps with her.  He’s the one indispensible part of her world outside Mommy and Daddy.  She loves Duck. 

Looking at her falling back to sleep, holding Duck, I found myself thinking, “I sure hope Duck holds out until she doesn’t need him anymore.”  My previous attempts at establishing a line of succession for Duck proved fruitless.  “Duck’s Brother”, as she calls the most worthy of the many ducks I’ve introduced to Elaina, is still a far cry from Duck.  He doesn’t go to bed with her.  He disappears unnoticed for months at a time.  Only Duck will do.  And so far, Duck is doing fine.  He’s showing his age to be sure, but he’s holding up. 

I found myself thinking about the scenario in which Duck lasts until Elaina no longer needs him.  One day, she’ll forget to bring him to bed, and she’ll fall asleep without him.  She’ll remember him the next night, but he’ll have been diminished.  Gradually, she’ll need him less, and I won’t have to worry about something happening to Duck.

And this suddenly struck me as incredibly sad, terribly, almost panicky sad.  Why?  My whole job, with respect to Duck, is his preservation, preventing some unfortunate accident that would leave my little girl heartbroken at the loss of her Duck.  (This is why Duck is forbidden to go skydiving, hang gliding, or parasailing, nor can he engage in any sort of competitive motor sport.) 

And yet, suddenly, the thought of Duck outliving Elaina’s love for him had me heartbroken instead.  Somehow, the thought of Duck just slowly ceasing to matter was worse than the thought of Duck’s untimely demise.  (Not that I’m now plotting against Duck as a result.)  I think the thing is this:  what Elaina feels for Duck is pure and primal and uncomplicated.  She loves him, she needs him, and he is hers.  That’s all. 

Heidi and I are Duck’s bodyguards.  It’ll never be easier to make Elaina happy.  She’ll move beyond Duck, and that’ll be a good thing, a necessary thing.  But as she does that, her first great love will wane, and that’s awfully sad—that something so good and pure can just fade out of this world, unnoticed by anyone.  At the same time, her needs will get more complex, and unlike Duck, the things she loves won’t be things I can safeguard. 

Of course, I don’t want her to stay a little girl loving a Duck forever.  I want everything for her that life has to offer, and I accept that that entails things outside of my control.  But when the day comes that I encounter Duck alone downstairs while Elaina’s upstairs sleeping, something will have started to fade from this world.  But it won’t go unnoticed, and I’ll mourn its passing, if only for a moment.