I have been haunted by this line from William Steig's children's book about a family of donkeys all week. While grieving the loss of their son Sylvester, Mrs. Duncan issues this plea to her husband to try to find normalcy again even though their beloved child is no longer with them. In Steig's story Sylvester has disappeared after finding a magic pebble which will instantly grant his every wish. Fear extends her slippery hand when a lion chases Sylvester and he impulsively, wishes to be a rock. Unfortunately his wish places him in some type of metaphysical limbo, invisible to everyone he loves but ever so near in his parallel universe of rockdom. As is the way with fairy tales, there is a happy ending. If one believes in a God or angel thoughts it is precisely that which prompts Mrs Duncan to set their picnic lunch on the rock which is Sylvester and then draws her eye to the magic pebble. The miraculous transpires when she places the pebble on the rock as Sylvester, in his rock state, wishes to be his real self again. It is a reunion which speaks of that profound love which exists in families cemented by love.
My son and daughter-in-law are grieving. Their baby daughter Scarlett has disappeared into some metaphysical ether through the process we call death. She is now an Angel Baby. We can feel her all around but cannot see or touch or hold her. The sorrow is palpable. My heart aches for them. My heart aches for me.
We will live and be happy again in time. I'm sure of it. Perhaps Scarlett will seek us out again to be her parents and grandparents. But for now she watches from somewhere so close, yet so far.