Bear has been having some trouble lately with the loss of his Grandmother. My father and I have reached a point where we no longer show visible signs of our grief - at least not to the kids. My father will tell me how he’s spent the morning at my mother’s grave, crying, talking - but to the kids everything is moving along. Monkey, too, has told me that she misses Grandma. My mother has been gone for ten months. Granted, that’s not a lot of time for such a big loss, but I’m surprised that the kids are bringing this up now as young as they are.
Bear told me a story last night of how - just after he turned five - and long before Winston was born, he dreamt that we were all sitting in the living room and Grandma disappeared suddenly. He heard growling and laughter: the growling, he said, came from Sammy at her surprise of Grandma’s disappearance (Sammy came into our family when Winston was 6 months old but I didn’t point that out to Bear); the laughter was from Heaven. I might not have done such a great job at that point in his story of containing my tears. Bear is very quick to point out that when he dreams of Grandma now, or remembers her, he only remembers the good things. I wonder about this. Does he actually remember bad things and he doesn’t want to admit it?
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on Monday, October 24th, 2005 at 6:45 pm and is filed under Bear Stories.
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