“Grandma, I miss everybody tonight,” you tell me. “Nobody is in my life enough.”
“I miss Daddy, my step mom and the baby because I got used to them”, you say. “And I really miss my mommy”. And then you cry hard. “I can’t see them when I want to”. you sob.
“My life is sad, grandma.” you cry as you fall asleep tonight. I stroke your head and face.
Your fever has broken, but cough raspy and nose stuffy and your cold is nasty. Sickness makes you vulnerable. I am strangely grateful for your vulnerability. This is hard stuff.
A few days ago I asked you why you had piled all the toys on the floor. You said. “We are moving out.” And the doll house furniture was piled into a basket. The tiny house empty.
“I used to be inside my mommy. She gave birth to me”. I watch you for signs of feelings bubbling up. “I used to live in a tent, remember?” Your face screws up tight and you cry a bit and keep talking, “There was thunder and lightning and it was loud in the tent.” I ask you what you did when you woke up. “I think I went to stay with you after the thunder, in your house that daddy lives in now.” You cry hard. “I miss mommy so much.”
I love you buddy. These are important things you are thinking about. You have lots of feelings. I will be here with you tonight until you go to sleep. “But I want daddy and my step-mom.” I know, and I am here with you tonight, to hold you and understand your important feelings. Let’s talk to Daddy tomorrow about your feelings, shall we? “Okay.” you say and your breathing steadies, slows and you sleep.