Proud
By
Scinadr
,
Oct 30 2008
A short story about how proud I am of my nephew.
My family has been through a lot in the two months. In late August/ early September my father (affectionately known as Papa to the grandkids) had to have emergency triple bypass surgery. My 93-year old grandmother lived with my mom and dad at the time. Shortly after dad came home (and he is doing great!), Grandma went in the hospital on two separate occasions, the last one resulting in a stroke. After six days in hospice, Grandma passed away on October 8.
My sister sat my 6 yr old niece, Meghan, and 8 yr old nephew, Michael, down and told them about their great grandma. The kids live 15 minutes away and know her well. The kids were fine when they heard and only Meghan had one question, “Will Great Grandma be in a box with a lid?” Although funny, it shows that the level of understanding about the concept of a funeral isn't quite there for her. Michael, on the other hand, gets it.
While home in Cleveland for the funeral (my family is Catholic) my sister and I were getting dressed when my 8 year old nephew Michael walked in the room.
“Aunt Patti, Aunt Susan, do we have to go see great Grandma again today?” asked Michael the morning of the funeral.
My sister and I proceeded to explain that we go back to the funeral home, father says a prayer, we say good bye to Grandma, they close the coffin, go to church for a special mass and then to the cemetery. After we were done, without any prompting, without any idea put in Michael’s head, he states, “I am going to help carry her.”
There was five seconds of silence as my sister and I looked at each other before we told him that was a great idea but that he must first ask daddy. After asking his mom and dad, my sister looked at me and I told her it was his idea, that no one said anything to him.
After that, Michael disappeared for a while. I went into his room and found him writing a letter for my Grandmother. On the front it read: To Grate Grandma.
The inside was a picture of a house (he wasn’t done) and the back said: Dear God, please take care of Grate Grandma and Grandma.
“Michael, you wrote grandma, you mean my mom? Why did you write that?”
“Because Papa is sick and because of great grandma. Grandma needs help.”
I almost cried. I collected myself, helped Michael fix his grammatical errors and then told my sisters. I have never been more proud of him that day.
Thanks for reading,
Susan
www.twitter.com/susancinadr