One the wonderful things we got to do this last week in Michigan was to visit my grandmother a couple of times. She was the only grandparent I had left, so it’s been fun to bring great grandchildren to her place. Plus, she was a crafting queen. She made all kinds of bead bracelets and crocheted blankets.

Tangible items the girls love.

Anyway, I’m exceptionally glad we got to visit with her because she died. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise. We knew it was coming. And, while sad, the whole family is happy that she’s finally at her eternal home (no doubt welcomed by Grandad).

It’s been interesting talking about death with the girls, particularly Monica. Their sibs in Mississippi recently had a grandparent die, so death has been on the mind, so to speak. Between language issues – not to mention the mind of a young child – I’m not really sure what picture is forming.

I had to chuckle at the conversation I had during lunch today. I probably bungled it a bit, but you tell me what parent doesn’t get somewhat nervous with these conversations!

Monica: “Grandmother, dying?”

Me: “Yes sweetheart. She’s dying.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s sick and very old.”

She squinted at me. “I die? You dying?”

“No sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re young. And we’re not sick.” (This was the part of the conversation that I wasn’t really sure how to respond.)

“Do you know what happens when you die?” I asked.

“You go to the hospital.” She said.

“And you go to the policia,” Kelly piped in. (I think, through their somewhat confusing history, they had a foster sister whose father died in a motorcycle accident. Kelly remembered the police coming to get the girl.)

“You can sometimes go to the hospital. But afterwards, you go to heaven,” I said.

The gave me confused looks. “Is it very far?” asked Monica.

“Um,” I got stuck.

“Do you get to watch TV on the way to heaven?” Monica asked.

This made me laugh. On far trips we let the girls watch videos in the car. The idea of my Grandma watching TV while going to see Jesus is a funny thought.

“Not exactly.”

“Oh. Well, send flowers then,” Monica knew that was one appropriate response to death.

“Good idea.”

I love this picture of Monica. I think it’s because she is lost in her own world of enchantment and we rarely see that from her. Usually she is hyper-aware of her surroundings, ever vigilant, highly observant. Here, she’s given complete abandon to the fun of her own imagination.

Kelly and Monica started speech therapy about a month ago on Thursdays. On one particular Thursday, I picked Kelly up from school and asked the teacher how she did.

“Well, Kelly had a hard time keeping her hands to herself. She kept touching the other students.”

“Oh, we’re working on that at home. Kelly touches EVERYTHING. Thanks for telling me.”

So we go home for lunch and have 1 1/2 hours before speech therapy. Guess what the topic of conversation is for that entire time? -Kelly, you have to keep your hands to yourself. Don’t touch other people without their permission. If you want to touch other people, don’t, just sit on your hands. Like this. OK? It’s not polite to touch other people. What are you going to do if you want to touch people? Right, sit on your hands. Show me. Good job. Don’t touch other people. OK?

Speech therapy. It’s a group therapy session. All the parents sit behind a one-way mirror from 1:00-2:30 in a tiny dark room, in silence, watching, and listening while our children learn to interact in socially appropriate ways. All the children have cognitive speech problems, ranging from ADHD to complete non-speakers.

Monica immediately latches on to the ADHD boy named Lamont. She thinks he is so funny always jumping out of his seat and getting in trouble. (File for future reference – if this is the type of student she takes to in class she’ll never lack for entertainment or her own share of trouble – which she’s already learning the hard way, but that’s another story.)

Kelly, who NEVER stops talking, has taken to the beautiful, petite, silent child named Tiana. I always sit beside Tiana’s mom. She is also very silent. On this Thursday, I sit and watch as Kelly plays with Tiana, giving her toys, talking to her about the toys, interacting FOR her with the toys. Ok, good. I’m willing Kelly to keep her hands to herself and play appropriately!

Circle time. Kelly takes Tiana’s hand and leads her to a chair. Kelly continues to hold Tiana’s hand. Kelly takes Tiana’s hand and points to the teacher to answer a question, FOR Tiana. Kelly feels Tiana’s cornrows. Kelly fixes Tiana’s shirt. Speech therapist asks Kelly to keep her hands to herself. Kelly holds Tiana’s hand. Kelly takes Tiana’s headband off. Kelly fixes Tiana’s hair. Kelly puts the headband back on Tiana’s head. Speech therapist tells Kelly to keep her hands to herself. I turn to Tiana’s mom and apologize. “We just talked about this at home. I’m trying to teach her not to touch things.” She chuckles but doesn’t say, “That’s ok. I understand.”

Story time. Kelly grabs Tiana around the waist to lead her to the floor. All my will power is gone. It’s torture to sit and watch. I turn to Tiana’s mom and apologize again. I turn back to the mirror. Kelly, in leading Tiana to the floor, has tripped and both girls are on the floor, Kelly on top of Tiana. In agony I ask the other parents if I’m allowed to interrupt the therapy session. Sure, they say. After all, Lamont’s dad raps on the mirror every time Lamont misbehaves, which is literally about every 5 minutes. That’s 18 interruptions a session right there. So,

I bust in. “I’m so sorry to interrupt but can I talk to Kelly really quickly? Kelly, remember? KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF!!!”

I walk back to the room and see Kelly with a really confused look on her face, still holding Tiana’s hand. She totally doesn’t get it. And that’s Kelly in a nutshell.

They are so happy to have their own library cards . . . and so am I!

This is how I found Monica when I came out of the shower today.

arden lane

• about our adoption