When you lose someone, especially abruptly,
every holiday or event is difficult, some even unbearable.
I’m no exception, some holidays affect me more than others, Father's Day happens to be a bad.
A few nights ago, Luca was laying in bed, he should have been asleep but instead he was talking to himself. I stopped to listen, he has such a crazy imagination, I was curious what he had come up with now.
He was playing with some imaginary friends, jumping around the bed and just being plain weird. Out of nowhere, he stops, and he slowly raised his fingers to his face as if was talking on a cell phone.
“Daddy, can I have a sleepover?”
He pauses for a moment, as if he's listening to the reply and then says,
“My mom says yes”
He goes quiet, it was as if he was waiting for an answer. While still holding up his finger phone, his demeanour changed; he seemed sad.
“Daddy, why can’t I go to the stars too?”
Luca knows that his Daddy died, I've explained death to him in a way suitable for a toddler. But still he didn't understand, toddlers aren't meant to understand death. One day when he asked where Dada was, I told him he was in the sky, and we'd picked out the brightest star in the sky for Daddy to live on.
Hearing that phone call broke my heart.