Editor’s Note: October 2009
October 2nd, 2009 by Jane Schneider
I wrote this essay several years ago, as Evan and I were getting ready to move. I decided to bring it back because it’s worth repeating: Kids need time to grieve.
As adults, we often become so immersed in our own emotions that we forget our children are trying to cope, too. What’s more, they must come to terms with decisions over which they have no control, yet these greatly impact their lives. This day was an eye opener for me. I hope in reading this, you’ll reflect on your own life as well. Because our kids are paying attention — much more than we realize.
My divorce had been finalized over the summer and I’d recently purchased a house, so we’ were busy preparing for a move to start life anew.
It was a bittersweet time. Our new home would be for just my son and me. So saying goodbye to our old house, where we’d lived for the past eight years, represented the closing of a chapter in both of our lives. This was something I’d been pondering, but I hadn’t realized my son had been thinking about it, too, until one evening when I walked into his room to find him sifting through his belongings.
Wedged into a corner of his bedroom, Evan was busy picking up a bead necklace, which he eyed before placing it beside some old metal cars. He’d pushed his belongings into three piles: toys he wanted to keep (that’s where the bead necklace was going), books, and odds and ends to be thrown away. In that pile I spy one-legged Army men, the head and hat of an old beloved Woody doll, picture books he’s outgrown, a pair of plastic binoculars. He looked somber as he rummaged.
“Hi buddy,” I said as I surveyed his work. “What are you doing here? You look kind of serious.”
He nodded slightly. “I’m going through my toys. These are some of the things that you can throw away, these other things I want to pack. But it’s sad,” he said as he looked up at me. I was perplexed by his response. “What’s sad?” I asked.
“Going through these toys,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “I’m having to say goodbye to my childhood.”
The seriousness of his words caught me off-guard. I wanted to smile, but I could tell he was wrestling with his feelings. He picked up an animal book and turned its pages slowly in his hand. “This book, it brings back such memories,” he said wistfully. “It was one of my favorite books when I was 6. I used to love it when you read this to me.”
“Well, you can bring that book with you,” I offered. “I know it’s hard to think about moving to a new place, but we’ll bring everything with us.”
“I know Mom,” he said, “but I’ll never be 6 again.”
Whoa, I thought. This was deep stuff coming from my 9-year-old child. I decide to proceed more thoughtfully.
“You know, part of what makes this house special are all the good memories it holds for us. All the friends we entertained for dinner here. All the celebrations and family time. And we’ll do those things again in our new house, we’ll make new memories there, I promise.”
He nodded but replied, “It won’t work, Mom. Right now, I just need to be sad.”
I bit my lower lip so as not to cry and suddenly realized my selfishness. I’d been so caught up in my own loss that I’d overlooked an obvious fact: My son was grieving too, saying goodbye to the family we’d once been, back when the world seemed safe and right. Though two years had passed since my husband and I had separated, the memories still lingered, of guitar music and train towns and dance parties, all now fading into our family past. Tonight was another small step in the grieving process, an acknowledgment of change that would have to take place if my son was to move on.
I tried to sound upbeat, to remind him that we’d make our new house a home, but for now, he wanted none of my platitudes. He wasn’t ready to let go of his sadness. Not yet.
Instead, I gave him a hug, and then let him be. Saying good-bye is never easy, especially when it’s a childhood you’re leaving behind.