But they had also been carrying a sadness too heavy for their age.
“Jake, sweetheart, listen carefully. You don’t have to fix my sadness. I’m the grown-up. You can always talk to me, even about Grandpa.”
“But I don’t want you to be lonely,” he sobbed.
“I’m not alone when I have people who love me.”
Then I kissed Lily’s forehead.
“And sweetheart, never keep a secret that makes you frightened
or unhappy. You can always tell Grandma.”
That evening, I called Emily.
She admitted the teddy bear had been Jake’s idea, although she had helped him find the materials.
She hadn’t realized how emotional the children had become.
We agreed that neither child should feel responsible for hiding or fixing my grief.
The following morning, on my sixty-ninth birthday, Jake handed me the finished teddy bear.
One ear was smaller than the other. Several stitches were crooked, and the red heart wasn’t perfectly centered.
