“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 
