early last week

a couple of maddy’s

toys went missing.

a zebra stuffed animal and

her baby doll.

for a few days

she asked me where

they’d gone.

i had no idea.

her stuff goes

missing all the time, 

and i usually find 

it pretty quickly.

i’ve searched everywhere

for them.

they’re not

in any of the

usual places

(i’m convinced they disappeared at daycare and have been buried under a mountain of toys, to be discovered accidentally sometime in the future).

but i told her

that i’d do my

best to find them. 

…

a few days went by

during which she

didn’t mention her 

missing toys.

then on monday, 

on the way to daycare

she suddenly said, 

“daddy? where are my zebra and baby?”

i gave her the 

same answer i’ve

been giving all along:

“i don’t know. but i’m going to keep searching.”

then maddy said, 

“my zebra and baby are dead, just like my mommy.”

…

fuck.

it’s not the first

time she’s talked

about her mommy

being dead,

(and it hurts everytime)

but it’s

the first time she’s

demonstrated to me

that she has at least

a tacit understanding

of what death means.

…

i keep looking for

those missing toys, but

now i’m worried that

if i find them

and give them to her, 

i’ll be fucking up

her understanding of death.

…

if i do 

find them, 

i’ll put my worries

aside, give her

the toys

and do my best

to once again,

explain death

to a child under 3. 

(and i know for sure that this never gets easier).