Grief and the Very Young

The little boys were at church today with their grandparents.  Their father is too distraught to do much of anything.   When I saw the boys walk in to the church my heart lurched.  Their mother died just over a week ago, after a brief illness.  I had no idea what to expect.  Sad, crying little boys?  But during the first part of the service they seemed fine, typical 7 and 5 year olds in church.  

The time came for us to take them back to the Sunday school with us.  It was a small group, only 5 children, everyone else gone for summer.   We sat in our usual circle and passed the chalice to talk about our sads and glads.  I held my breath, prepared to offer words of comfort for the inevitable sads.  But they didn't come.  The boys were in great spirits talking happily about their life.  I was both surprised and relieved.  

We all sat at the table and created sculptures from plasticene, and talked about our summer, and what we were creating, and about school starting and about funny things that had happened to us.   The boys remained cheerful and no mention was made of the mother they had just lost.   And it occurred to me that they are too young to fully comprehend their loss.  Not in the way we adults do.  Not the finality of it.  Not the devastating sadness of a woman taken too young, from little boys who need her so much. Not the anger at the injustice of it all.  Children's lives are immediate.   They live in the moment.  And there will be many painful moments  of missing their mom.  Bedtime, when they get hurt, when something reminds them of her, when daddy says no and they don't have mommy to appeal to.  And they will feel sad and they will cry, but it will be momentary.   They will find themselves feeling angry and they will act out, but they won't understand why.  

As they grow, her memory will fade, but they will grieve her differently throughout their lives at different stages of development.  They will grow up with only distant memories of her.   She will live in their psyche, and in their hearts, but they will mostly remember her through stories others tell them.   I am so grateful for the blessed innocence of their youth, that protective layer that lets them continue to believe that nothing bad can really happen, that mommy isn't really gone forever.   And I wish for them a happy life, full of love and nurturing and in their heart that little ember from the love of the one who was there at their beginning.