And I will go sailing no more

“Is that Pa’s boat?”

“No sweetheart, that’s a different boat. Pa’s boat hasn’t got sails.”

“Maybe Pa will go on it. Maybe Pa and Toni and Lucky”

“Lucky has died sweetheart, do you remember? Lucky isn’t here anymore”

“Where is he?”

“He went to sleep and he’s not going to wake up, he‘s resting now.”

“Is he at the kennels? Is he asleep at the kennels and doesn’t want to wake up?”

“…erm. Yeah sweetheart, something like that”

Ok, so I copped out, but it’s quite difficult explaining death to a two year old. Especially when you are trying to avoid falling back on any religious explanations. Maybe that’s how belief systems evolved, as a way of getting out of explaining death to young children. In my darker moments I find myself envisioning how Amy would cope if either Kerry or I died, but I’d rather not dwell on that now.

It must be very hard for Amy to grasp abstract notions like love, death and hope. We’re constantly telling her we love her, and she often says it back, but I’m not convinced she entirely understands. She’s just about got her head around the concept of time; we’re now able to talk about what we are going to do tomorrow without her assuming we will be doing it there and then.

Still, I think she misses Lucky. It’s been around six months since he died and she still talks about him. She also remembers her great grandma who passed away over a year ago; she regularly points her out on pictures and tells us that she’s her “special Nanny”. They say that grief is the price we pay for love, but its probably a good thing that Amy currently gets it for free.