In performing my job as required of me this week, I was needed to take two of my charges to their grandfather’s funeral and burial. My boss was away for work in Mexico all week, and this left me to do the honors. The kids’ grandfather who passed was their deceased mother’s father. We knew on Tuesday morning that the funeral services would occur on Thursday, during school.
All week, my 13yo charge has been acting out in ways that show his fear of abandonment, death, and loneliness. There was the time that he panicked upstairs, calling “hello” in a strained voice, thinking he had been left unexpectedly alone, when in reality, I was downstairs folding laundry for 10 minutes. Then there was the time when, driving him home from school, he told me he knew the world was going to end tomorrow, due to those experiments that are going on in Sweden with colliding atoms. He’d learned about it in science class that day, and how the scientists are trying to recreate a “Big Bang” theory. I told him that I doubted that this was going to be a reality, and that I believe when God decides to end the world, it will be at a very unexpected time. I then went on to say that if the world ends tomorrow, I’m ready to go to heaven… and asked him if he in turn was ready. He looked at me with fear in his eyes, and said no, that he had too much to do here first. I asked him to explain, and he said he hasn’t gotten a chance to play golf with Tiger Woods yet. I tried to reassure him that I’m pretty sure he and Tiger can play a round up in heaven, if for some reason he doesn’t get a chance to play here… and tried to laugh about it with him, but he couldn’t see the joke.
He had his worst show of fear yesterday during the actual funeral, though. It was an open casket service, and since his mother’s service was closed casket, this was the first time he had ever come face-to-face with an embalmed deceased person before. He walked into the room, not knowing what to find, and when he saw his grandfather lying there, he froze, then backed up quickly, turned around, and with the whitest face I’ve ever seen looked at me with the widest scared eyes ever, and I saw the kid inside him start to fade away before my eyes. It was one of the saddest moments I’ll ever know. Later, in the truck, while we were driving in the procession, his older sister was crying her heart out in the back seat, and he looked at me solemnly, and said that even though he wasn’t crying on the outside, that he was on the inside, and that it hurt really badly.
I can’t begin to put into words how it feels to see a child you care for have their last few pieces of innocence ripped from them before your eyes. It has got to be one of the most heart-wrenching moments I will ever experience, and it’s not one that I would like to have again any time soon.









