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).