A Sweet Story

Sam had his second school evaluation Saturday morning at a school called St. John's. For whatever reason he didn't want to go. I tried to convince it would be fun, new friends to meet, snacks, blah blah blah. Finally I told him it has to be cool because they named the school after his cousin John Wyatt. That piqued his interest for a moment until ...

"And grandpa?" he asked.

"Well, yes, my dad's name is John." My father left our family about 10 years ago. None of us have seen him since. I don't talk about him, but apparently Sam's heard me mention his name.

"Is he dead?" he asked.

"No."

"'Cause grandpa died." he said.

"Yes, my grandpa died." My maternal grandfather, Donald Herring, died in 1990, way before Sam came along.

"Did someone kill him?"

"No. He got sick and went to the hospital. But the doctors couldn't help him and he died. Did you know his name was Donald?" I asked. Donald is one of Sam's favorite trains.

"I love him so much," Sam said.

"Sam, that's very nice. But you didn't meet my grandpa."

"No, but I can still love him. Like I love you."