Bo, The Dog

When we got to Grandma Sharon’s house for our winter visit, Autumn wanted to know where Bo the dog was. And we had to remind her that he had died.

Grandma Sharon then showed us the box that held his ashes. Autumn was aghast. She wanted to open it and see but the box didn’t open and Grandma didn’t want it opened.

How do you freakin’ explain that the giant black lab we previous lounged on could fit into this box? We were in WAY too deep. Don tried to explain to her that he was cremated (or burned – who does this kind of thing – shit, what had we done!)

Now this is all she talks about. “Mama, Dada, friend, lady on the street – Bo is buried in a box, his body is all burned up.” Oh, my god, it’s like a horror story – created by us.

She told me that she didn’t want that to happen to her body and I told her it didn’t have to and she doesn’t have to worry.

But what do you say, the truth trounced upon us without warning and we didn’t see the developmentally inappropriateness of it all coming at us before it landed.

We tried but I have the feeling we’ve done something terribly, terribly wrong.


2 Responses to “Bo, The Dog”

  1. aw, she’ll be ok. Only an n= 2 of course, but both of my kids became rather death obsessed around 4- what happens to your body, where does it go, what does dead feel like.
    Good luck navigating this terrain

  2. We all must learn sadly enough, that all living things die. The spirit however lives on forever.

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