Tonight something happened that I didn’t think would happen for a few years.
When I was putting you to bed, you were anxious and upset like most nights. Then you told me you were crying because appa died. This is not the first time. You told me you wanted him to come see you.
But then you asked me directly, “Tell me the story. What happened to him!” in as demanding and heartbroken a way as an almost 2-1/2 year old can. You looked me right in the eye, and I could literally feel the pain you must endure having absolutely no idea where your dad disappeared to or why. Only that he had an accident, got hurt, his body didn’t work anymore- all things I’ve read to use in grief books for children.
We tell a lot of stories around here, so it was interesting to me that you framed it in that way all by yourself. Yes- this will be part of our story always…yours and mine.
Then I looked at you and told you “it’s very very sad…in a few years when you’re a little bit older.” You seemed satisfied with that.