Always a Part of Our Family

A relative’s death is incomprehensible. Experiencing death around young children makes it just that much more unexplainable. A couple of weeks after Murray died, at the dinner table my four year old daughter Stella announced out of the blue, "Now you have three sisters and one brother, Mama." I said, "I still have two brothers. Uncle Murray is still my brother even though he died." Hank said, "Yeah, just like BoBo is still our dog even though he died." Stella said, "And Ferdie is still our cat even though he died!"

So then we dropped it and moved on to another conversation.

Later in the evening, I started crying when I saw this picture of Murray and me when we were about 12½ and 3. We both look so young and innocent, and it made me sad to think of all that has happened in our lives and how the world takes away youthful innocence.

Stella came up to me and asked why I was crying. I said, "I'm still sad because Uncle Murray died." She hugged me, stepped back and held onto my shoulders with her hands, looked me right in the eye and said, "It's ok, Mama. You're still a part of our family, and Uncle Murray is still a part of our family too."

I wish I could bottle up Stella's beautiful innocence and take a sip of it from time to time. I know I cannot protect her from the cruelties of the world no matter how much I want to or try to. But I can constantly remind her that our family is here for her, just as it is here for me now.