Still waters run deep

So, if you know me or if you've been following me here for a while, you'll remember a tragedy that struck on 18 July 2010. You'll also remember how my precious boy processed it all at the time.  And there I was, thinking it was all done and dusted and dealt with. After all, Daniel had just turned five when it all happened, and he seemed to have sorted it all out for himself. I didn't think the reality of it all was still a part of his memory. Seems I was wrong. 


My boys have both been Star Wars obsessed of late. We haven't let them watch Episode 3 yet, what with Anakin trawling through the fires of hell to become Darth Vader and all, but we've let them watch the other episodes. This evening, I was sitting doing his reading homework with him, and all of a sudden, he started sobbing. 


I asked what was wrong. " Yoda died!" he cried out, sobbing. "He was sick and he died and I loved him so much!" Cue explanation that Yoda is just part of a story, along with a deeper understanding that this clearly is his mother's child - I also cry in movies. Even when there's really nothing to cry about. But this isn't about me. 


I also explained, ever so gently, that we all try to live as long as we can, but we all have to die sometime. I explained that even though my dad died before Daniel was born, I still carry him in my heart, and I think of him every day. Cue more tears. "I think of Rogan every day, Mom. And I still miss him so much." 


Sjoe. How to deal with that one - when I thought it was all so sorted, and when I, the grownup, had so much difficulty working through it at the time. So, we spoke again about how Rogan and Milla and Monica are still in our hearts, and we think of them every day. We spoke about how Grandpa was sick and in pain, and how even though we miss him every single day, we know that he is much more comfortable where he is now. And we spoke about how Yoda must surely have been tired after fighting the Dark Side of the Force for more than 900 years, and he probably really needed a rest. And that how it's ok to talk about it when we feel sad, and that it's ok to miss the people that aren't with us any more. 


These little people grow up so quickly, and see and feel much more than we realise. I did what I could - I listened, tried to comfort him, tried to support him. 


And then I bought him a Magnum, because chocolate and ice cream go a long way towards fixing what's wrong. And it was right after that when I realised that parenting experts and dietitians would castigate me for introducing comfort eating at such a young age. 


But you know what? I don't care. My boy was sad, we spoke about it all properly, and we needed to get past the crying. Broccoli and magic mince wasn't doing the job that I know ice cream would.