His cat, Patches May, disappeared several weeks ago and has never returned or been found. We thought perhaps in her wanderings around the neighborhood she had found a family that let her be an inside cat. Whirling Dervish latched onto this possibility. He was upbeat and hopeful for about three days and then he declared that Patches had "broken his heart."
With Explorer's death, he just couldn't keep a brave face and cried quite a bit. The kids wanted to see him since they knew I had found him nearby. The Calm One and I debated for sometime wondering if we should comply with their request. We finally decided that since Explorer looked like he was sleeping and their were no wounds, we'd let the kids have this final step of closure.
The Affectionate One was grossed out and refused to stand with us until The Calm One had completely buried the cat. Whirling Dervish watched every move and cried the whole time. It was heartbreaking. It's a tough life lesson for an almost six year old to learn.
He wanted to pray for Explorer and of course, we let him and then I said a prayer too. Even his prayer revealed how deep his grief went:
Please let Explorer come back to life. Because I miss him. And I want him back. And it makes me sad."
Somehow, looking for a way to count this as joy too,