Prayers are hard to change
Cam and I have a nighttime tradition. Each night we read together (lately it’s been Harry Potter – we’re on book 6). Then we cuddle and Cam says his prayer. He’s said the same prayer in the same order since he could talk. He’s said the same prayer for so long that he inserted his sister’s name AFTER the dogs’ names. He’s said the same prayer for so long that often he still asks for his Aunt Jan to feel better… even though we lost her to ovarian cancer earlier this year.
I don’t have the heart to correct him on some nights… Because honestly? I’d rather he was prayer for her to feel better than knowing I don’t have her around anymore. More often than not, Cam catches himself and instead he blesses his Aunt Jan “who is now in heaven.” It’s very sweet and heartbreaking for me.
I’ve had similar experiences with my kids. They’re jarring at first, but their perspective is calming.
My mother died two years ago. It was very hard for me, and the kids clearly got that. In the months following her death, when my youngest would mention Grandma, his older brothers would quickly silence him. They did it to protect me, as if the mention might be too much.
Interesting how the experience of watching the protected become the protectors affects us.