Zoey remembered...

We had family pizza-giving this afternoon.

Trisha, John and Zoey arrived first with a bunch of food [non pizza] and lots of hugging and conversation. Zoey and Trisha saw all the "stuff" set out to decorate and things swung into motion:  Zoey went to play with the village people (and all her toys that she brought to Grandma Pat's house scattered across the rug...) And Trisha declared "don't talk to me until I get something to eat!!" John left to get the pizza's from Pappa Johns - special order - veggie pizza, peppers and pepperoni one, and then a little cheese one. In a little while,  Keith, Tracy, and Delia popped in with the last minute decorations I ordered from JO ANNE's and the kitchen brigade decided to set out nibbling food and await John's return.

When the pizza arrived, the girls sat down and began to eat and talk and eat and talk. John offered to bring me a plate (I was in the living room dragging out decorations) but I said I'd come in and eat at the table.

I was not even aware of being hungry. I was barely aware that I was sitting at a table with only 5 chairs and the boys were walking around eating pizza from their hands... And we chatted away about stuff. and then Zoey ask, "Where's Grandpa Stan?" She was looking up and to the right to remember his name. But she remembered.

And we stopped. And we were unprepared / hesitant/ afraid to answer her. He's not here. He's in the basement (true). And we never did tell her anything else. 

We haven't stopped feeling the loss we suffered with this death. No one can take away the pain of loss a girl feels about losing her Daddy no matter how old the girl. All of us have special memories that we would like to share in love with our Zoey and Delia, but we are unprepared/hesitant/unaware that this could-should be appropriate. The boys are more stoic. Girls carry their feelings so very close to the surface. We all miss him. We talk about him ( your Dad did this, Daddy did that) but it was a surprise to hear Zoey use his name.

Our family gatherings are infrequent and hurried; maybe if we can remember to be aware of why we come together, we will have a better answer if she ever asks again.