Angels Have Wings

"Heads up. The kids aren't doing so well with the idea of Gran's house being sold."

"Did they say why?"

"I didn't ask."

I sighed internally and made a mental note to delve deeper. It's how our method of co-parenting works. He gives me a heads up. I take the kids on a long drive and ask questions, praying I'll know how to handle the answers.

-----

"Daddy said you're not happy with selling Gran's house."

"I'm not," Elizabeth said, her jaw firm in her displeasure.

"It's a lot of changes, honey." I glanced in the rear view mirror at Joseph. He stared out the window at the passing houses, his expression closed. "Is there a reason it makes you unhappy?"

"It's Gran's house," Elizabeth said as if I'd asked what that yellow orb in the sky was. "Where is she supposed to go?"

"Does she still visit you?"

"All the time."

"Do you chat?"

"All the time."

I searched my mind for answers, ideas in how to help a little girl coping with the loss of her beloved great-grandmother. I stalled for time. "What about you, Joe?"

I stole another look. He shrugged, still staring out the window. "I'll miss her if we leave."

"You visit too?"

That got his attention. He turned to meet my eyes in the mirror in surprise. "Of course."

Silly me, thinking something as mundane as death would keep Gran from her babies. "Don't worry," I said with more authority than I felt. "We'll figure it out."

I looked at the two of them over my shoulder as I pulled into our driveway and gave an encouraging smile.

-----

I'm not certain what happens after we die. Sometimes I'm jealous of those with such spiritual surety, envying the confidence with which they say they will see their loved one again. I don't think, though, that it's the end and I have enough of the dreamer in me to believe in fairies and magic and spirits.

I don't doubt that my children communicate with their Gran, that she is still as present for them now as she was when she lived. I think, sometimes, as we grow up we begin to view the world as consisting of only those things we can see, feel, and touch and forget the flexibility we had as children.

But I still wasn't sure how to help them because, internally, I too wondered if Gran was tied to her home. When I reached out to Angela and Cam for advice, Angela said something that clicked, "Angels have wings. They can go anywhere."

It was one of those forehead slapping moments. An answer so simple it had eluded me.

-----

"You know...Gran has wings."

"I don't see them," Elizabeth said, her head tilted.

"They're probably folded up," Joseph told her wisely, "Like in Percy Jackson."

"It means she can go anywhere." I told them.

Both kids grinned.

-----

"I had lunch with Gran at school today."

"Really? That's wonderful."

"Uh-huh. Analeia and Viddy weren't at school today and I was sitting next to my other friend and no one was in the other seat so Gran sat with me."

"Did she chat with you?"

"No," she plopped on the couch next to me. "She was quiet, but Gran is almost always quiet."

"That's just how she is, Elizabeth. She's that way with me too."

-----

The house is nearly empty, the debris of life slowly disappearing. Some to thrift stores, some to family, some to be trashed. I picture Gran on the couch, her hands shuffling photographs. I remember holding one by its worn edges. She was sitting in the sand, squinting at the sun. Next to her two young boys stood, bare chested. She was tiny, perfect in her Marilyn Monroe one piece. Her dark hair was held back from her unlined face with its shy smile.

Joseph is right. Gran is almost always quiet.

I'm glad she has wings and my babies haven't really lost her.