Everyone always talks about how you should handle grief in your own way. Everyone has their own coping mechanisms, their own perspectives. But have we ever taken the time to look or even listen to the coping mechanisms or perspectives of our little people?

I learned a very valuable life lesson this past year from a very wise beyond his years little person of mine. The weight that he carried on his broad little shoulders could have taken a grown man down and yet he said very little. His emotions, always genuine were confused, yet he asked few questions. His pure heart was hurting, this we knew, yet we did not know to what extent and for that I feel ashamed.

The life lesson this little man of mine taught me is way beyond anything a person of his single digit years should have to contemplate.

We could all learn a lot by just slowing down and looking at our world through the eyes of our very own little humans, by actively listening and watching what they are saying to us as their hearts and emotions are pure and free of bias. The fact that we think we know better is a conundrum.

Let me start by sharing a little back story of my amazing Mr. B…

B is a very lucky little man with 3 sets of grandparents to dote on him, to cheer him on and to shower him with the love and attention that doting grandparents do. He lives in a very small town surrounded by friends and family and, of course, all 3 sets of grandparents live close by. If he didn’t want to stay home all he had to do was make a phone call. If he had a hankering for some cookies, he’d call Grammy. If he needed some adventure, it was Grandpa David. If mom was being mean, off to Grandma Bubby’s it was. Life was good for little man B.

BUT then the world went CRAZY.

First off, his mom got pregnant.

Then Covid hit.

Nobody could leave their houses.

And if they did go out, they had to wear a mask…

AND so now it’s his birthday and he can’t have a party. B is turning 5 and a birthday party is a big deal, especially 3 months into a pandemic! Mom pulls out all the stops and B gets a birthday parade with water balloons, squirt guns and the friendly neighborhood policeman with lights and sirens. It’s great, but it’s not an actual party.

Then Kindergarten. With Masks.

Mom has a baby girl. B is excited, but little sis has breathing issues and gets moved to the NICU which means she must stay at the hospital for the next week. We’re still in a Covid world so B doesn’t get to see his parents or the baby.

That is a lot of life for a five-year-old boy to take in.

Add to that the fact that B has been an only child for 5 years, spoiled beyond belief by his parents and all those grandparents.

Despite of or maybe because of all this B is an old soul. I have said it time and time again. If anyone asks me about B it is my go-to description. He likes to buy his mom and grandmas flowers. He will tell you that you look pretty. He will open the door for you. He will see something that reminds him of someone, and he will go into a long-winded story explaining the significance of said item. Don’t get me wrong, he is an ornery little s#*t most of the time, but you can see that old soul shine through occasionally. He thinks about things, and you can see it in his face. In his eyes. Sometimes the thoughts make him happy, and the merriment skitters out into the universe, and he will share his unique outlook. Other times the thoughts puzzle him, and he will question you until he understands, drives you crazy or gets bored.

B’s Grandpa died right before Christmas. He had cancer and the last few months were rough.

B knew his grandpa was sick and as the end grew nearer his family spent more and more time at his grandparent’s home. It weighed heavily on him. You could see a change in the happy go lucky 7-year-old boy. This was the grandpa that took him hunting. The grandpa that took him out on the four-wheeler. That took him to the farm. That gave his mom just as good as she could get. The tough guy. And now he was sick and stuck in a chair and could barely talk. It was scary for B. For the entire family.

So scary, that as social and as curious and as family oriented as this brave little man was, he retreated. Not a lot. Just a bit. A scared 7-year-old trying to figure out emotions that we adults can’t get a handle on.

B’s momma was dealing with her own grief. She was trying her best to help her dad and her family navigate the scary new world they were forced into. The world of cancer. There were doctor’s appointments, so many doctor’s appointments, there were home visits, quality time was a must, work, kids, homework, research, not to mention all the other normal day to day tasks. It was an overwhelming new world.

B’s mom did notice a slight change in him though and called the school counselor. The counselor invited B to a sit-down lunch with friends and found out that for months B had been living with the fear that cancer was contagious. Can you even imagine? Every time they were at his grandparents’ house, B was scared that his parents or his sister or even himself would catch cancer. How terrifying for an already worried little boy and yet he said nothing. I cannot even explain the confusion I felt when I heard this, it broke my soul that he went through this for who knows how long alone, and we didn’t even know.

B’s Grandpa died on a Friday. I was on my way home from work when I found out. My son called and asked if B could get off the bus at our house that afternoon and I remember thinking how excited he would be, and it made me so incredibly sad.

Just a few weeks prior B had finally talked his parents into letting him get off the bus at our house. It had taken him a very long time to convince them that he was indeed old enough to get off the bus at Grammy and Papa’s house. I remember the first time vividly. We were home, his Dad came over and was pacing back and forth to the window watching for the bus. His Mom called. Did she miss it? It was a grand production.

Finally, the bus stops at the corner, B launches off the bottom step and sets off at a dead run to our house. And then he sees his Dad. He was sooooooo disappointed it was comical. Needless to say, the few times he has gotten to get off the bus at our house since then, his parents haven’t been there, and he thinks it is an amazing adventure of some sort. I know tonight will be no different.

I get home and hear the bus right away. Soon B is busting through the door. Not the B of 6 months ago, but a relatively happy 7-year-old that just got out of school on a Friday afternoon. A Friday afternoon, no less, where he got to celebrate his half birthday. I can see by the look in his eyes that he thinks that he is going to schmooze his Grammy for all she is worth. And he is correct. He gets the homemade chocolate chip cookies that he wants. He gets the movie that he wants. He gets lots of hugs. And a few kisses whether he wants them or not. Unfortunately, Papa and I have plans for the evening and I need to take B to Grandma Bubby’s house, but before I take him, I need have a heart to heart.

“B”, I say.

“Grammy” he says with that mischievous grin of his, shaking his head at me. He loves to mimic me, and he knows it drives me crazy.

“B, I’m being serious.”

He starts to mimic me again and I hold up my finger to stop him.

“I want you to know that no matter what. If you are scared, if you did something wrong, if someone does something to you. ANYTHING B. You can tell me or ask me anything. You know that, right? If you don’t know something or you are worried about something, you can tell me, and I will help you or we can worry together.”

He looked at me and slowly nodded his head.

“Promise me B.”

“I promise.”

We talked about things for a while, cancer included. I could not believe how tough this little guy was. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a more open, honest conversation about a loved one being ill…dying.

At this point B still did not know his Grandpa David had passed away, so I know the conversation was harder on me than it was on him. My heart was breaking. I honestly think, even had he known, he would have handled it better than I did.

Once B got the answers to his questions, once he knew it was ok to ask them and to show his emotions and to still just be a kid, he handled things much better. There was no longer a need for pretense, and it made things much easier, simpler.

I took B to his Grandma Bubby’s after that. When I dropped him off, I asked him if I could please have an extra hug. I couldn’t even pretend that it was for him, because at this point, he still had no idea that his Grandpa David had passed. He ran around the front of the car and squeezed me extra tight as if he sensed I needed a little extra love.

“Grammy, can I please come back to your house when you are done having dinner with your friends.”

“B, if it is okay, you have you Mom or Dad, text me. I love you.”

And off he ran.

I drove to the corner grocery store, parked my car and cried. The next time I saw B he was going to be heartbroken.

B did end up coming back to our house that night. He wanted to spend the night and I was not going to say no. When he got there, he walked over and gave his Papa a hug and simply stated that his Grandpa David had died. Then he crawled on my lap and gave me a tight hug. I asked him how he was, and he said that he was sad and then he leaned back and looked me in the eye and told me that his Grandpa had died. We talked for a while, just the two of us, and he summed up the day perfectly.

“This day sucks.”

Just a quiet statement of fact.

B’s Mom called to check on him before bedtime. They talked about him being sad. They talked about Grandpa David and in true B form this was his concern…

“Mom, what about Grandma Pam?” B cocks his head to the side, deep in thought. “She talks a lot. Who will she talk to? We will need to go over every day, so she has someone to talk to because she talks a lot, Mom.” I shake my head, smiling through my tears.

B is the most kindhearted, old soul. It is hard to believe when you look at the ornery boy playing or getting in trouble, but it is true. We could all take a lesson from B in taking into consideration of how other people feel and how they go about their lives and what they need to do that and to be happy.

Earlier in the week after talking to his counselor and realizing he could not catch cancer, B realized he needed to reconnect with Grandpa David. B wasn’t sure how to do that since they couldn’t do any of the things they used to do, but he did come up with a plan. His Grandma Bubby found a five-dollar bill in B’s jacket when she did laundry one day and when she asked him about it, he patiently explained his plan to her.

“Every Friday if I get 100% on my spelling Grandpa David gives me $10. It makes me happy. I don’t have $10, but I have $5. I am going to give it to Grandpa David, and I hope it makes him happy.”

B gave it to his Grandpa David. I’m told he crawled right up in his lap and they laughed and joked and told stories for quite some time.

After B had gone home for the night and his Mom and Grandma Pam went to put Grandpa David to bed, he was still clutching that $5 bill.

A few days later, after Grandpa David had passed B came to my house and I saw the first genuine smile I had seen in a long time on B’s face. I told him it was good to see a smile on his face and his reply was “I am happy. Grandpa David said that $5 was the best Christmas present he ever got!”

Again, B made me cry. Tears of joy, tears of pride for the man he will someday be, and tears of sorrow for the Grandpa that he has lost. I am content in knowing that B will never let the memories go, they will live on in his old soul and his long-winded stories…

B’s Grandpa David was buried with that $5 in his hand and I’m sure many a person wondered the significance. This proud Grammy will tell anyone who will listen about the selfless grandson that put it there and what it signified to that proud Grandpa. It signified the love, trust and a bond between a Grandpa and a Grandson that cannot be broken.