Moving on

Lately, we've been exploring death. Mostly C3.

First, a neighborhood dog died about 2 months ago. She was a sweet beagle who loved our girls. Holly left her very good friend Berry very lonely.

Then Peaches passed away about 3 weeks ago. She was a bulldog about 6 years old, sweet, fat, wiggly, jumpy, wrinkly girl who must have just had a heart attack and passed away.

Once Peaches died C3 said to Miss J.: "Your husband died, and Peaches died, and now you are all alone!" Yes, very true, C3, but I wish you wouldn't say it in such a perky voice.

Fair is fair, I suppose, since Miss J. said Peaches went night-night. The last thing I want my daughters to hear is that death is like going night-night forever.

Now, during this time we have been visiting my grandmother, Grammy, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer February 27. We've been talking about how Grammy is sick, she is very old, her body is not working well any more, she's very old, yes we are all going to die, but not any time soon. We talk about this now and again. Or, we did, until May 4, when Grammy died.

Now we are talking about how Grammy was old, her body stopped working, she is going to be buried with Gramps. C3 is working this over in her head, so we talk about it a lot.

Q2 saw Grammy's blanket (that my mother had bought and given to Grammy on our last trip up to use when her brown blanket was being washed) draped over her crib last night.

Q2: This Grammy's blankie?
E37: Yes, that was Grammy's blankie.
Q2: Grammy have her brown blankie?

I am flabbergasted by her memory and touched at the same time that she remembered (I didn't remember the color of the brown blanket until she said it).

Today is the wake, tomorrow the funeral. I'm not sure how this will all play out, but last time C3 saw a dead creature (a dead bird on the sidewalk) she cried and cried and wouldn't walk on that sidewalk for months.