She can be an angel

Alanya is obsessed with death. Not in a "Mommy, I'm scared" kind of way, but in an intrigued and curious kind of way.

A month or so ago her first grade class was discussing Johnny Appleseed. Alanya told me a child asked where he lived now and the teacher told the class he lived long ago, but is now dead. "So Mama, I raised my hand, and I told Mrs. Rx@ that Nana's twin is dead too!" she said with enthusiasm. (My mother's twin sister died a few days after birth, and Alanya just can't get enough of the story!) I gulped and asked her what the teacher said. "She said 'thank you for sharing Alanya'."

This past week our 88 year old neighbor passed away. A sweet old man, Mr. Burns would light up when he saw my kids. At church he'd always mess up their hair when he walked by. He told wonderful stories, and the kids liked him. When I told the kids he was very sick a few weeks ago, Alanya colored a picture of a butterfly and wrote "I love Mr. Burns" on it. I'm sure he loved it. When I told the kids the other night he passed away, she took it in, and didn't say much, but when she found out there were "events" she wanted to go too. I asked Noah if he wanted to go to the wake with me, and was not surprised when he said no. Alanya didn't understand why she couldn't go. When I got back from the funeral, she said "Mama, did Mrs. Burns cry?" I told her I couldn't really see, but I imagine she did. "Oh."

In the back of our church, there are small memorial crosses with people's names on them, and Alanya knows there is one for each of my grandparents. This morning she points to the crosses and whispers "after can we go look?" Look for what, I asked. "For Mr. Burns' cross." The sweet innocence to assume a cross with your name would magically appear on a wall when you die and become an angel. I told her Mr. Burns didn't have a cross on the wall yet. She accepted that, clasped her little hands and put her head down to "do her prayering" as she calls it.