"I miss her."

About a month ago Elise and I were laying in her bed at night and she was playing with her stuffed animals (one of them she calls Daddy . . . he's a panda).  She said something about "Daddy (panda) had a brother who died."  I have no idea where she came up with this or why she said it, but I responded with, "Did you know you have a big sister, Tessa, who died?"

Elise just looked at me very thoughtfully and asked why she died.  I thought for a split second about what to say and then I decided the most truthful answer would be best.  "Tessa had a part of her brain that didn't grow and that made it very hard for her to stay alive.  You and Rosie have big, healthy brains."  She was quiet for a few moments.  Here's how the rest of the conversation went:

"I miss her.  I want her to come and live in this house with me and Rosie," Elise said. (These were her EXACT words.  I start a steady stream of tears at this point.  I mean, seriously?  Could there be any more loving response than this?)

"I miss her too.  But we can remember her by looking at pictures of her."

"I know!  We have a picture of her in Rosie's room."

I asked Elise if she would like a picture of Tessa in her room and she said, "Yes."  We talked about it a little bit longer, although I don't remember exactly what was said, and then it was over.

It turned out to be simple and so much less scary than I thought.  Of course, it stirred up all sorts of emotions for me.  I held it together fairly well until I got downstairs and told Mike about the conversation.  We both had a good cry and I felt a huge wave of relief.  It's like I had been holding this conversation inside for so long, worrying about what to say, when to say it, how Elise would respond, how I would respond.  And it just happened.  Naturally and perfectly.  Exhale.

Thanks to Joel and Jenn Corcoran for this picture