“Is it that she was just too old?” Brandon asked.
The last time we dealt with loss, Brandon was younger and an only child. This time was different. There was no way to say it lightly. No way to avoid the truth. The text message had come through and Sarah’s grandmother Doris had passed at 100 years old. Sarah was quick to be honest with Brandon. But she was also quick to tell him that his other great-grandmother, my grandmother Shirley, was ok, so he didn’t get confused. I wasn’t with them. I was with Adam at his T-ball game. But Brandon remembered my dad passing away and had questions, so Sarah fought through tears to talk with him about what happened. And ultimately, he ended up comforting her as much as she did him.
“It’s ok to be sad and to have feelings,” she told him. He thought about it for a moment, looked back, and said, “I do feel sad.” There were hugs. There was quiet. And then they went back to their day.
While Doris may have been Sarah’s maternal grandmother, we always joked she was my girlfriend too. When Sarah and I started dating over a decade ago, I lived in a condo near where Doris lived. I’d pick her up weekly to drive her to and from dinner at Sarah’s parents’ house every Friday night.
On the drives, we’d laugh and talk politics. She would tell me stories about her and Sarah’s grandfather during the war. And she’d pass along other great wisdom from her 100 years of life. She was feisty and fun. I was lucky enough for her to consider me another one of her grandkids. Then I was able to see her become a great-grandmother for my boys, which she loved. As her health started to fail her, she would always ask about the kids and find joy looking at pictures when we’d visit.
Even though we knew she wasn’t doing well, we didn’t know how quickly things would happen. And it’s never easy to get that news. Thankfully, Sarah and her mom had visited the day before because there had been many emotions leading up to her passing.
Before we could even deal with the significant emotions or what to say to the boys, we found ourselves also figuring out coverage to make sure we could be there for each other and for the family to attend the funeral and memorials that followed, all of which came up rather quickly. We decided to try to keep the week as normal as possible for the boys, but it involved a lot of splitting up. It truly takes a team. And we were so thankful for everyone who made themselves available. It let Sarah be with her family while I went back and forth, taking the kids where they needed to go. Of course, it was also both boys’ back-to-school nights that week, but we figured it out. Adam seemed naive to the schedule changes completely. We decided that honesty, but not too much honesty, was probably best in this scenario. We didn’t bring the boys to any of the funeral-related events or memorials. But we told them we were there.
See as a parent, finding the time to grieve is hard, because when is there time? And letting your children see you sad feels scary, even though it’s ok to be sad. Because grief is a process. When Brandon saw us sad, he wanted to know more and we wanted to provide the context of why. We wanted to teach him that sharing how you feel is important. But also, that it is important to remember the good things that happened and the fun times together.
We also wanted to make sure life kept going. We chose our words carefully when answering questions without making the concerns even worse. Because loss happens. And to lose after 100 years of a full life is both a time to grieve and a time to celebrate all that was. This is hard stuff.
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