Good Grief, Little Boogerface

Well, this is the second time I have tried to write this blog because it's a touchy subject. Touchy as in, my heart aches too and I try to lean more on the cheerful side of blogging with my Grace and Motherhood. Then after thinking about what this blog is really about I realized this is how I chronicle my life with Natalia, good and bad, proud and embarrassed, happy and sad. That's what makes this real, right? So it's with a rather heavier heart that her little timeline involves the death of one of her favorite people - Grandpa Lacow.

The biggest question for my momminess is 'How do I help Natalia grieve?' Well, it's a totally different animal. With adults, you kind of shut yourself in a little, gather around some friends and family, then  resurface when you are able to inhale all that air that just got kicked out of you. Not so much with an eight year old. She needs to vent and play and stay occupied. This comes in the form of play dates, movies, introductions to Teavana and a (dreaded) trip to Roaring Springs. Her world cannot just shut down, therefore, Lacowland does not shut down either. Now that I look back on this really difficult week, I like her way of doing things. Sure there are afternoons spent at Grandma's house to wrap up some details, share a meal and think of good Grandpa stories; but we made a stop at Grandma's pool that afternoon too so Natalia could get her play on. It was like a little grieving vacation for all of us.


 You know how I know she is doing okay with all of this? Singing. It's kind of like how I know she woke up on the right side of the bed before school. She is just absent mindedly singing about her day lately and still smiling in her sleep. Phew. I wasn't sure how this was all going to pan out with her when Grandpa's day finally came, but she is doing pretty well. I get the sense that she has some relief now that he has passed and isn't suffering.


There have been so many bedtime talks about Grandpa being sick, him never getting better, then the whole analogy of our souls being the driver and our bodies being the car. Grandpa has stepped out of his busted car and moved on. She had been so worried about this day and now that it's come, it isn't as painful or fretful as she had thought. Sometimes the unknown is more terrifying than just being in the thick of it all. When you're in it, there are not as many options as our minds can think of in the "not yet". Natalia has a pretty solid imagination, so she had a lot of options she had been working with over the past few weeks.

Right now she mainly wants to know how long this heartbreak is going to be an issue. Yep, that's my girl. "Excuse me, I'd like to know the timeline of this unpleasantness please."  I'll admit I am not above asking my therapist questions like this in the hopes that she has a magical formula I just hadn't been able to Google. There isn't. Nope, not even on Google, although I have not asked Jeeves yet. I have to give Natalia the answer that has been handed down to me: Time. No, she doesn't really "get" that answer, but she does "get" this analogy (okay, long Shauna story coming up):


Natalia inherited my right brain way of thinking in pictures, crazy imagination and penchant for vivid nightmares. She will have a terrible time with sleeping when stress upsets her little apple cart, so this is what I tell her. "Your brain is a candy jar and it is our job to control what we put in it. What we should be doing is placing sweeties in our jar. Now, filling up a jar with nothing is a ridiculous notion, so is not thinking about anything. You have to put something there to take up the space." That is when we think of three sweeties to put in our jar before bed. This has also worked while my poor little boogerface is mourning. It's crazy that a similar analogy popped up in church last Sunday. Can I get an "Amen"?! (now everyone raise their hands in your best Southern Baptist way).

Yes, it is sad and hurtful, but pain has a purpose and its own time so we need to let that in too. Dig our toes into it like sand, wiggle them around, then be ready to move on down the beach. You can't really heal until you let the pain sting a little. That is when I make sure to let Natalia know that we are all hurting together, so she doesn't have to feel lonely in her sorrow. When I told her that she cried, smiled, hugged my neck and told me I am the best mom ever.  The good memories temper the pain and always outweigh the loss. Our sweeties for our jar are in the form of memories and joy, funny stories and Grandpa impersonations. Natalia's are the best.


I really do strive to be this person who I sell to Natalia. Please, God, let me live by my own words and take time every day to put sweeties in my own jar so I may never be too empty to fill her up with the hope and joy she needs to create her own sweeties.