Jewels

Sometimes Life hands me jewels, you know, incidents which shine so brightly I just cannot forget them. I ruminate and then re-tell them so that others may learn from them too. We've just come through a Life Event in our family. A friend, my granddaughter's other grandmother recently passed away.

My granddaughter, Orlaith, is five. Five year olds live in Magic. Everything that happens in life has the potential to be understood in a manner vastly different than the linear world of adults. Her grandmother's passing was just such an event.

Orlaith called me from the car on her mom's cell phone the evening of the family viewing and said, "Críonna, my Granma died."

"I know, SweetiePie, that's why you spent the night on Friday, remember? So that Mommy and Daddy could help Granma with her dying," I replied.

"I know, but Críonna?" she continued, "They put my Granma in a jewelry box."

Tears welled in my eyes at the beauty of that explanation. I humbly offered the mundane, "O Little Bit, they call that jewelry box a coffin."

"Yeah," Orlaith continued, "but Críonna, they cut her legs off. They cut Granma in half!"

The shock of that statement was profound! Five year olds are left to interpret what we've not thought to explain.

"Oh Orlaith, there are two lids to the coffin," I frantically tried to explain. "You must tell Mommy to lift the other top tomorrow and show you that Granma was not cut in half; you will see that her legs are under the closed lid."

With her beautiful ability to move from importance to nonchalance, Orlaith said, "Well, OK Críonna, I just am going home now to see my cats."