10/25/16
Audrey talked with our babysitter Maggie about a friend of the sitter's who had passed away and Audrey said "you mean died?" I asked her what dies means. She said in a cheery voice, its when you go to sleep and never wake up." and I forcefully said "No, that's not what it means at all to die, and Maggie backed me up. We said, dying is when your body no longer works and your blood stops pumping. It has nothing to do with sleep. It’s not like sleeping beauty. She listened and moved on immediately, as four year olds do, but I know that conversation is going to come back up again and again. How badly I wish I didn't have to search for natural moments in our day to shape her thinking about sickness and death. Audrey does a beautiful job of loving Talia exactly as she is without demanding anything more from her. Audrey makes silly faces to talia, sometimes with a reply, sometimes without, and she just continues that one sided conversation with glee. She holds Talia's hand in the car. She loves to help at Talia's therapy knowing that when she is the aide, Talia is able to laugh through the work. At the same time, I watch the joy she gets from playing with the other toddlers in the neighborhood and I admit that it does hurt to see her form relationships that her sister is unable to provide.
One of the things I'm most upset about with this sickness is that Audrey is being robbed a sister. Someone who would play princess with her and watch her dance, and then dance with her. Someone with whom she could confide her secrets and create magical worlds with. I had the fortune of having three kids in the same order and gender as my family. I'm in the middle, just like Audrey, and i know the joy (and challenges) of having a younger sister. I don't think the pain of that robbed experience is ever going to fade for me-even if it does for Audrey.
