| My grandmother past away back
in 1996. My seven-year-old son was three at the time, and I felt uneasy
letting such a small child attend a funeral, knowing that he was too young
to understand exactly what death is. So, I felt that it was best to leave
him with his father's relatives. They decided to come to our house to
watch him since he goes to bed early, and we would be there at the lay out
until 9:00 p.m. My grandmother looked beautiful as always and it was a sad
and tearful time for everyone. When we returned home that evening my son
was already asleep. I checked on him and then I tried to get as much
needed sleep as I could. The next morning my son woke me with a smile.
Before I could even get breakfast started he told me that grandma came
over last night, and she held him while she explained to him in a childish
way that she was going bye-bye. I assumed it was another grandparent he
was talking about until he used her name. I told him he was wrong and that
grandma could not have come over last night. I could not bring myself to
tell him she was dead and it still hurt to repeat those words. He then
came over and wrapped his little arms around my legs and said Grandma Moo
Cow (his nick name for her) told me she loves you. She said when you were
little you wanted her pretty earrings. In the palm of his little hands
were my favorite earrings. He then told me how pretty Grandma “Moo
Cow” looked in her dress as he described the dress in detail and all
that my Grandmother was buried in. I do believe that since I did not take
my son to the funeral, grandma came to him to let him say his own
good-byes, and ever since that night he seems to understand death without
me having to explain it. |
