Lately the girls have been asking a lot of questions about my Dad. Why did he die, how old was I, do I miss him.
I answer honestly…he was sick with cancer, I was seven, and yes.
For awhile they were just curious, but now I see they are sad for me because they have a Dad and surely they wouldn’t want HIM to get the Cancer.
Last week I overheard Laina’s worried whisper, “MAILE…did you see Daddy has some grey hair!?! Ohhhhh…I don’t want Daddy to die!!”
Clearly they don’t quite get it all the way, but they’re close.
Yesterday in the car we were listening to the radio and in between songs Maile said, “Mommy? Sometimes when I hear sad songs I imagine you and your Dad walking together holding hands.”
And then we got home and she drew a picture.
And my Dad.
You know…in case I wasn’t finished GRIEVING or something.
Thanks for ripping that wound wide open Maile!