Changes

Last Monday, as we were driving to the gym, Tee was chatting away to no one in particular. It was some lively imaginative game she was playing, I wasn't included so I continued to listen to the radio. Suddenly, with great stress and anguish, Tee announced, "Mommy, I can't find my parents anywhere!"

"Parents?" I asked quite confused.

"Yes, parents?"

"You can't find your parents?"

"Yes."

"Your parents?"

"Yes. My parents."

"Tee," I asked, "Do you know what parents are?"

"What, Mommy?"

Yes, I was startled that she didn't know what the word "parent!" But one thing being a parent of small children has taught me is not to assume anything. I quickly explained that mommy and daddy were her parents. Conversation over, but as I said, I've learned not to assume anything.

"Do you have parents?" Tee asked.

"Yes, everyone has parents."

"Does Daddy have parents?"

"Grandpa George and Grandma Margaret are Daddy's parents."

"No, there is a different one."

In spite of all the deaths, my children have actually had very stable lives. Neither set of grandparents, nor any of their Aunts or Uncles has been through a divorce. And with the exception of my younger brother (who is barely 25), everyone is married with children. Grandpa George, however, has recently began dating a wonderful woman. She is also widowed, and both of them talk openly about the loss of their previous spouse, which I think is wonderful. She has been amazingly kind and supportive to us through the loss of my mother. And most importantly, she makes him happy. They plan on getting married this winter. I clarified that this is who Tee meant. It was, so I began my simple explanation.

"Well, sometimes when one parent dies, the one who is still alive finds another person who is still on earth to marry." So far so good, "So Grandpa George is going to have a new wife, and she'll be Daddy's step-mommy, and your step-grandma."

"We get a new Mammah?" Tee asked with great enthusiasm. She really does like this lady. And this is about my daughter, not me, so matching her enthusiasm, I affirmed her question.

And then the tears came, "But I miss my Mammah with the black hair."

Me too, Tee. Me too.