Loss and little ones
As many small pets as we’ve said goodbye to—a hamster, mouse, frogs, a bunny, and more—death is still such a difficult concept for Wood Sprite, as it is for most young children. Wood Sprite still brings up these animals (particularly her rabbit) on a weekly basis. She understands that they are gone, but it seems like they passed away just yesterday.
Between my family and my husband’s family, we have lost five family members since last summer. If you add in my miscarriage and the miscarriage of another close relative, that makes seven. Wood Sprite was aware of all of these losses, but she was only close to one person: my husband’s grandmother.
We are attending the funeral of another family member today. I am purposefully being vague to respect peoples’ privacy, but this was a person I was close to as a child and loved very much. My husband was also friends with this family member. This was a person who was charming without even trying, a person with a contagious smile and a huge heart. Wood Sprite, however, only knew this person through the occasional hello at family events. I worry about how she will act at his funeral, as I worried about how she would act at the funeral of another family member last summer that she barely knew.
I think I don’t need to worry so much about that, however. When she mentioned she wanted to build a time machine to go back to save the loved one who died last summer, my aunt smiled and told her it was a lovely idea. She is eight; she is processing this in her own way. She made a tombstone out of Legos this morning and drew a sad face on one of her minifigs. She says she is going to be an investigator to find out what is happening to our family members who die so she can “get to the bottom of it” and save people.
Part of me is angry with this, angry out of my own grief. It feels like making light of such despair. But I have to keep reminding myself that this is her way of processing it, of coming to terms with loss and understanding death. My husband’s been doing a good job reminding me of this even though he, too, is grieving. We all are. And grieving with Legos is no less valid than grieving into a pillow until it’s soaking wet with your tears.
Photo courtesy of Wood Sprite.