Both my boys went back to school this week, and both were met with assignments with some demands for information about their summer. For the first time ever, they don’t want to share that. Their grandmother died. No, it wasn’t the only thing that happened, but it dominated. The aftermath made for a slow, muted summer, and also made for the fist time I didn’t have one picture to send back to school of Dan doing any summer activity at all. My bad.
Dan will say it, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to write about it, maybe he would, but I’m not going to make him. He spent his free time this summer mostly on art and the computer. I have to say that I wasn’t happy with everything he drew, some of it was dark, but he was processing the first death he’s ever experienced, and we talked, he’s okay. He does miss my mom. I hope they just let him say his summer was fine and let it go.
For Baboo it’s worse, I think. He’s expected to write something for several different classes, and he’s trying to do that without mentioning the big event. It’s easy enough to write about the books he’s read for summer, he always reads more than enough and there’s plenty to recap, but his summer? Oh, there’s slim pickings there. Stoogefest, visiting Aunt Sissy, and….? Not a helluva lot more.
We didn’t spend our entire summer draped in crepe, wailing and crying, we just took things slow. We did stand out front and watch the fireworks, but like everything all summer, it was the first time without Mom, and we all felt it. I have a hard time writing about it, why would I want them to have to do it?
Aside from that, some things are theirs. Some things are personal. Their grief, their feelings, and this year–how they spent their summer.
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