This is how Noah described crying last night, as the drops fell from his eyes, onto the blanket on my bed. Noah was distraught over not being able to find Suppertime for Frieda Fuzzypaws, a book he's had since he's probably three years old. Luckily, he found the book in my carry-on back from our recent trip to Florida. Crisis solved!
But once again, Noah's reaction was a poignant reminder of all that remains challenging to and for him. And in that vein, it was fascinating to hear Noah on this trip refer to Si as his grandfather. Si is my mother-in-law's companion. And yes, he is a grandfather. But not Noah's grandfather. Noah's grandfathers both passed away, Murray, z"l, eight years ago and my father, z"l, three years ago. But Noah still thinks my father is in the hospital. Death is simply too abstract an idea for him. As Len pointed out, if Noah can't see it, it's not really real to him. He can see Si, so therefore Si is his grandfather. And that made the drops fall from my eyes...
