This week I had a better conversation about Ramona with a six year old than I've had with most adults.
Her
name starts with an M, too, and she's been hanging out our desk talking
our ears off. She always looks thoughtful and constantly asks, "Why?"
She
saw that we were putting stickers on things and wanted to help. While
we were stickering, she told me her brother had died. It was unclear as
to how old he was or other details, I could tell that she loved him
very much, though. After a few minutes of talking she asked if I had
any kids.
It's
hard for me to know how to talk about Ramona with kids. Some understand
'died' and take it in stride, others might not understand or become
fearful. It makes me sad, because I don't like to lie and say, "No, I
don't have any kids." It's not true, but what do you do?
At first I told her no. She said, "My neighbor doesn't either, and she says I'm like her kid."
I smiled, and thought for a second.
"Remember
when said I don't have any kids?" I asked. "That's not true. You know
how you told me your brother passed away? I have a daughter and she
passed away, too. So she doesn't live in my house, but she lives in my
heart."
She
nodded very seriously and said, "My brother who died talks to me and
tells me to do good things. My other brother doesn't believe me, but
it's true. He tells my head and my heart to do good things."
