Years ago, when Seth was about 5 years old, my dad had a cat and we had a dog.  My dad's cat was a beautiful calico with long hair.  We had her since I was a young child.  It was surely a cat with 9 lives.  Tiffany, our dog, which was a poodle had been around since before we had children.  Back in B.C. (before children). 

One day the cat died.  Seth wanted to see her get buried.  All we had out in the woods was loads of rocks and boulders.  So, the cat  got a big rock marker.  Back Seth treked after the sad deed was done.  Nary a word.  Then one very sad day, at 12 years of age, our beloved Tiffany died.  She was a wonderful black poodle with much personality.  She gave a lot to us.  Actually, she was quite sick with congestive heart failure. We made an appointment to put her down.  It crushed my spirits.  I loved her soooo much.  She followed me around the day before and just kept staring at me.  The day of the vet appointment, she sat on the arm of the couch and never got up.

Seth wanted to go with dad to see this thing take place.  I thought that was kind of warped but chalked it off to being a bit young to understand.  When the boys arrived back home, Seth said he thought it was very neat to watch Tiffany die.  However, he thought that she was going to go flat when she died.  He eagerly went out to the back woods where the cat was buried and grinned all the way home.  Again, "Neat!"

I was a bit disturbed by this behavior.  Two weeks later Seth asked me, "Mom, when is Tiffany and the cat going to come alive again?"  I replied that they would not come alive again.  They died.

"Oh, that is so very sad!" He lammented.  Over the ensuing weeks he kept saying how sad it was that Tiffany would not come alive again. I felt better.

This past week, my dad died at the young age of 65.  It was a fast, sudden happening.  It took an active, energetic man down within 2 short months.  It was a very difficult thing to go through emotionally and otherwise for me.  Especially since he was very far away in North Idaho.  I am in the southern part of Missouri.  I could only talk to him over the phone and heard him get weaker and weaker till he could hardly speak.

I told Seth that Papa was very sick.  "Oh, that's so very sad."  I had him write a letter to papa.  "Dear Papa, I am so very sad that you are so sick. When are you going to come and see me?  I think you should pack up your bags and come and see me." This is the same one-sided conversation that he has had with him for years.  "Please come and see me."  It has not happened in over 10 years.  The letters went back and forth monthly for a long, long time. 

Last Thursday I told The Puzzle Boy that his papa had died. "Oh, that's so sad."  Then life just went on for him. No emotion. The night before when we told him that papa may not live, Seth had 6 seizures!  We wondered what in the world was going on.  He had not done that in years!

I think that perhaps it was his way of processing the emotion.  He has not shown any emotion hardly at all except for happiness, of which we are greatful.  Life just goes on....I find it very interesting.  I can't remember the last time Seth cried.  The other night when I tucked him in bed, I asked him if he was sad about anything.  "No, nothing." Was his honest reply.

Until Next Time, if you have grandchildren, go and see them.  Make a wonderful impact on their lives.  Talk to them on the phone.  If you have an autistic grandchild, keep a consistent relationship going also.  Don't give up.  Even if you think that it does not matter, it really does.  Relationships are very, very important.  Please, above all else, tell your kids, grandkids and whomever, that you are PROUD of them! 

Nancy Lynne!