When we adopted Lydia in December 2014, she spent much of the first two days mourning the loss of her foster mom. She cried frequently and deeply. Laughs came slowly and sporadically. Lydia mourned in Lydia’s way.
Eliza came to us smiling. She’s been quick to laugh and loves being tickled by dad. Her tears have come slowly and sporadically. Like today on our drive to and from the Terracotta Warriors.
She sat next to Chris quiet and absorbed in thought. Then the tears came. Same thing happened on our drive back to our hotel. She looks at us tentatively, wondering if it’s okay to cry. Yes, sweetheart, you need to mourn.
We had lunch at McDonalds. Monica was excited about a double-cheeseburger and Chris looked forward to a Big Mac. We thought Eliza would enjoy nuggets and fries as much as Lydia had 18 months ago. She didn’t. She tried a french fry then burst into quiet, big tears.
Tonight we walked (and the boys biked) around Xi’an’s remarkable city wall. Afterwards, as Monica bathed Eliza she burst into tears again. Not long, inconsolable crying but deep, confused tears. She’s very happy but she’s also sad and confused by all the changes. Her whole life used to consist of a classroom, a bedroom, and a small playground. Her world has exploded in a remarkable way. She knows it’s ok to cry, and the tears had stopped by the time Monica tucked her in. She even had a few giggles while reading a book with animal noises at bedtime, but more tears will come.
Eliza needs to mourn in Eliza’s way. Just as each of the Terracotta Warriors faces are unique, grief takes different faces.
Eliza came to us smiling. She’s been quick to laugh and loves being tickled by dad. Her tears have come slowly and sporadically. Like today on our drive to and from the Terracotta Warriors.
She sat next to Chris quiet and absorbed in thought. Then the tears came. Same thing happened on our drive back to our hotel. She looks at us tentatively, wondering if it’s okay to cry. Yes, sweetheart, you need to mourn.
We had lunch at McDonalds. Monica was excited about a double-cheeseburger and Chris looked forward to a Big Mac. We thought Eliza would enjoy nuggets and fries as much as Lydia had 18 months ago. She didn’t. She tried a french fry then burst into quiet, big tears.
Tonight we walked (and the boys biked) around Xi’an’s remarkable city wall. Afterwards, as Monica bathed Eliza she burst into tears again. Not long, inconsolable crying but deep, confused tears. She’s very happy but she’s also sad and confused by all the changes. Her whole life used to consist of a classroom, a bedroom, and a small playground. Her world has exploded in a remarkable way. She knows it’s ok to cry, and the tears had stopped by the time Monica tucked her in. She even had a few giggles while reading a book with animal noises at bedtime, but more tears will come.
Eliza needs to mourn in Eliza’s way. Just as each of the Terracotta Warriors faces are unique, grief takes different faces.
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