I still don’t know how children grieve, but I do see how they operate. They think they are amazing. They think they deserve good things. They think they can do anything. Daughter and I spent much of this weekend doing horse things–hanging out at the barn to get the horses ready yesterday, showing up at 5:30 am to help load them onto the trailers, going to her first show. When that was over, we drove another hour farther from home to watch Olympic and Olympic-caliber jumpers compete. The first time we saw this jump, we gasped: We did all these horse-related things because daughter wanted to. It took up most of the weekend, and son was left largely alone, but she wanted it. That’s what drives me these days. If they want something, I give it to them. I was about as moved by this jump as I was by the Olympic jumping.
As we departed this morning I was sad, wishing husband could be seeing this with her, could be here for her. But by the time we drove home, through hills dotted with early fall foliage, it was undeniable that time is marching inexorably forward, and we are doing it without him. I’m not happy about it, but there is no choice. I wasn’t scared driving around today. It occurred to me that I could take them on a road trip. Where we would go, I have no idea or desire to consider, but at least I know I could do it. She, on the other hand, fell asleep with her 2nd and 5th place ribbons clutched in her hands. She thinks she’s amazing. She thinks she deserves good things. She thinks she can do anything. She is. She does. She can.