And so the question pops up again, "What do you say?" We haven't told Hallie about the baby yet because we are just at a loss for words. What do we tell her? I had poked my belly out one day while looking in the mirror and she asked me why Avery Kate was back in there. She will not understand that this is a different baby. She is really smart, but even I have trouble understanding all of this and I don't expect her to comprehend it either. We are going to talk with Fr. Keith and see what he thinks. I know he will have the right words to say.
Hallie has also been asking a lot of questions lately. She keeps asking for us to go and get Avery Kate. When I explain to her that we can't she always says, "OK, Mom. Maybe tomorrow we can go get her." Then I have to tell her again, "No, Hallie. We can't go get her." "Yea, Momma! We can! Maybe next time OK?" I have run out of things to say to her. I try to explain Heaven and Jesus. I try to explain the graveyard, etc. She's two years old. How can I expect her to get this?
She has put a few things together that also make it harder for me to explain. She knew Paw Paw was sick, and that's why he went to Heaven. Well the other day, completely out of the blue, she said, "Mom, Avery Kate feels good." "Yea? OK baby, she did. You're right. She felt great," I answered. "Then why she went to Heaven Mom? She feels good?" What do you say?
I took Hallie to the graveyard the other day, and as we went to leave I asked her if she would like to go and tell Avery Kate good-bye. "Stay right here, Mom," she said. I didn't move. I watched as she walked over to her grave. I saw her mouth moving, but I couldn't make out the words she spoke. She then shook her head up and down, blew her a kiss, and waved good-bye to her sister. "I ready, Mom," she said. I hurried and slipped the sunglasses over my eyes to hide the tears that had filled my eyes. I put her in the car and drove away in silence and complete amazement of my child. She inspires me. She is an amazing big sister and always will be. I wanted to tell her that, but I have learned in moments like these, I don't have to say anything at all. Sometimes silence just says it all.