Yesterday was hard.
Little Blondie said to me at lunch "Momma what does dead mean?" followed by "Do we come back to life after we die?". What do you make of the weight of that for lunchtime conversation? My answers were maybe too blunt, but I don't think that this conversation is easy to have at 3 years old or 35 years old. My concrete thinker was overwhelmed and inconsolable.
I wasn't really prepared for the depth of his emotion because he is my "stoic" child. Imaginative, but very composed and in the here and now of life. Brownie is a very methodical, logical thinker and I believe that our "death" discussion lasted 2-3 minutes and then we were off to "Why is the sky blue?" But Blondie, faced with his own mortality, just wept. I could only hold him and love him. It was a huge leap of development for him, I felt like one of my chicks ran from the cover of my protective wings and there is no way to get him to come back. He is growing up...AGAIN! I am not ready. It was too big a day for this momma hen.