S'all right, Christy...as Margo complained long ago, you never COULD shift, ohhhhh ha de ha ha, ha de ha.
I'm glad I went for the ride with Margo's Dad this morning... we had fun. It was nice to spend time with him. You know, Margo LOOKS so much like her Mom that it's easy to forget how much like her DAD she is. He's a real stitch... couldn't stop talking about his Becca, his Tony... God, he really looks so much like Tony (or vice versa)/ I gave him the word about Tony interviewing at Dickinson and he was thrilled. "He'd be a great coach, bri, you know? He plays like a coach, which means he knows how to learn."
And his French has improved... when we were in the bagel place, we got our order and the woman rattled off the Total Amount Due en Francais, and I was like, uhhhhhhhhhhh... but Tom just said "Ouais, ouais, merci," and peeled out a twenty and a ten and paid.
(It occurs to me as I write this that he actually may have had NO idea what the woman said, and he just knew that there was NO WAY a dozen bagels, cream cheez and smoked salmon would cost more than $30 Canadian.)
Anyway that was fun.
It was kind of a heavy afternoon though. Becca is lying here with her head in my lap, sucking her thumb. It was a tough afternoon for her. She loves the animals and birds up here, and when we came in on Friday she saw a groundhog working in the grass near the entrance and I know she had her eye on it.
Well, sometime early this afternoon, some idiot ran over the poor thing... he was in the middle of the road with a trail of blood running out of his mouth. I was just going to get rid of him quietly but then as I'm going to get a shovel to do the dirty work, Becca saw me and said "What you doin' daddy?" And I said "I have some work to do," hoping she would think That's Boring and go to mommy or mimi. But she tramped along a few steps behind me, all the way down to the end of the driveway, and of course when she saw the groundhog she froze.
"Why's he sleepin' in the road Daddy?"
I think she knew that he wasn't sleeping, but I answered anyway.
"He's not sleeping, honey," I said. "He's dead."
Becca is 3 yrs old and I KNOW she's heard the word dead, dying, die, all that before, and been exposed to death on TV, but I don't know if she's ever SEEN dead right in front of her. She just kind of looked at me.
"Dead?"
"Yeah, honey," I said. "He's dead. Someone in a car ran over him."
She looked at the groundhog. "If someone hit you with a car, would you be dead?"
"Maybe," I said. "Depends on how fast they're going."
She just kept looking at the groundhog. "So he's not wakin' up?"
"No, honey... he's not waking up."
"Why not?"
"Because he's dead, sweetie. When you're dead, you don't wake up."
I started out into the road with the shovel and Becca started running after me and yelled, "No, Daddy, no! Don't."
"Don't what?"
She ran up to me and hugged my legs. "Don't... don't go out in the road and get hit, 'cause I don't want you to be dead. Please?"
I told her I wouldn't let that happen, and told her to stand by the side of the road and watch, and if she saw any cars coming, scream really loud so I could get out of the way, and she did for a second, but mainly she was watching me as I scooped that groundhog up with the spade and walked off the road.
"Come on, babe," I said, and she walked alongside me, but she really wasn't watching where she was going... she had her eye on that groundhog. I think she was hoping I was wrong and that it really was asleep.
We took it down into the woods and she was asking me questions the whole time.
"How come he looks like he's sleeping?"
"That's how groundhogs look when they're dead, honey."
"Do people look like they're sleeping when they're dead?"
"Sometimes."
"Did he have any babies?"
"I don't know, sweetie."
"Did he have a mommy and a daddy?"
"Yeah, Becc. I'm sure he did."
"What are they gonna do?"
"I think they'll be really sad. I think they'll miss him."
"Are you gonna die?"
"Someday."
"When?"
"Not for a long time, sweetie."
"But when?"
"I don't know, honey. Nobody knows."
"Did the groundhog know?"
"No."
"Did he think it was going to be a long time?"
I was going to say "Groundhogs don't think like that, honey," but it seemed kind of like a bullshit answer, so I said, "I don't know, honey. I'm sure he didn't know."
"Did it hurt when he died?"
"No, I think it probably didn't."
"Is Mommy going to die?"
"Not for a long time."
"But someday?"
"Someday. But not for a long time."
"Does she know when?"
"No, honey."
"Am I going to die?"
I was about to answer, but she said, "Not for a long time, huh."
And I said, "Yeah."
"Does dying feel like sleeping?"
"I don't know honey. I never died."
"When you do, will you tell me?"
"I won't be able to, honey. I'll be dead."
"Will I still be able to talk to you though?"
"Any time you want."
She thought about this for a second.
"When you go to sleep, Daddy, make sure you don't die, but you wake up."
"I will," I said. "I promise."
The whole time we were having this discussion I was digging the groundhog a grave, and then Becca wanted to know why I was burying it.
"Because that way he goes back into the earth," I said. "He liked the grass and the flowers and the trees, and when we bury him, his body will go into the dirt and get soaked up by all the plants and the trees, and he'll be a part of them. So it's kinda like he won't even be dead. you know?"
I thought, Sheezus, kid asks her dad a simple question and she gets a new age lecture on The Circle Of Life, but she sat still for a second watching the groundhog, and then she pulled up a handful of grass and flowers and got on her knees and laid them on the groundhog's body and said "Here's your favorite," and she stepped back and I covered it up with dirt, then took a step back and bowed my head.
"What you doin' Dad?"
"I'm praying," I said, and then I said, "God bless you, groundhog," and Becca repeated "God bless you, groundhog."
And we stood there for a second, and then I said "Becca, what did you like about the groundhog?"
"He was all fat, and he was always eatin'."
"Me, too."
"I think he was happy, Daddy."
"Me, too," I said.
And I said "Goodbye, groundhog," and Becca said, "Goodbye, groundhog," and we tok hands and walked back up to the garage and put away the shovel, then went into the house and cleaned up for lunch.
I told Margo what happened, and what I said, and she told Becca she was sad and she'd miss the groundhg, too. And all the way through lunch Becca asked Margo the same questions she was asking me: what does it feel like? When you die, you don't wake up? Are you going to go to sleep sometime and not wake up? Am I going to die? When are you going to die? When is Daddy going to die? All that.
God, Christy, I hope we said the right things. I mean, how do you tell a kid that they're gonna die or you're gonna die someday. You can't lie, but sheez.
And I know Becca must be thinking about it, maybe scared about it, because she didn't swim without us and she hasn't gone more than five feet away from me or Margo the whole time since we buried the groundhog. And I expect she'll probably want to sleep with us tonite.
Another one of those things that nobody warned me about in parent school.
Sorry to go on and on Christy but I had to tell you.
Mmmmmmmm...I can smell dinner... Margo and her Mom are cooking tonight (salmon)... we take turns. Tomorrow nite is Tom and me again, and we�re gonna whip up... GRILLED GROUNDHOG!!!!!! MUK MUK MUK MUK!
Annnnyway...
Hope Marty calmed down somewhat.
A nice jazz version of "Reach Out (I'll be There)" on the radio. I love when they take non-jazz songs and make jazz records out of them.
Hope you have a good evening and no turbulent seas tomorrow morning sweetie. Looking forward to seeing you and Marty next weekend. love xo bri
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