Dear Audrey,
You are starting to grieve for your father in a new way. One night out of nowhere you said at the dinner table, “Appa twaveled a yot.” “Yes, he did,” I said after having you repeat it a few times so that I could understand you. It must’ve been important to you that I do because you patiently repeated it as clearly as you could at least three times until I got it and nodded your head with relief when I did.
Another day after a rousing rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” you said “I wish appa could hear me sing Twinkle Little Star.” “I know, I know you do,”I say.
You realize he will not be here for so many things. This morning on our way to the drugstore, you said, “I wish appa could go to the drugstore with us,” and then, “I’m sooooory, appa…I’m sooooorrry.” I think you got this I’m sorry part from me because sometimes when you say something like, “Appa died,” I tell you that I’m so sorry that this happened.
Tomorrow you will be 28 months old. You last saw your dad at 21 months when you were only speaking mostly one syllable words.
A minute later in the car I am stunned by your words:
“I wish appa could come back to life.”
My heart literally hurts for you.
That is truly heartbreaking. And so beautiful that such a little, little child can express her connection to him as well as her mourning so expertly.
I wish you both peace.
julia. Found your blog randomly, and have just realized – ah, what we have in common – DSN.
xo – Megan
Julia, I started reading your blog after your post on Motherlode — my son is just a little older than your Audrey (and his language skills are becoming similarly complex with every passing day).
My heart and head hurt for you — hearing Audrey start to really be able to verbalize her pain and loss must make an unbearable situation even more striking.