That was the beginning.
He was nine then. Nine year olds are supposed to fall apart. I kept waiting for it. I read the grief books. I bought the workbook for kids with the cartoon bear on the front. I made an appointment with a children’s grief counselor, and he went three times and sat on her couch and answered every question with “I don’t know” until she gently told me maybe we should take a break and try again later.
We never tried again later.
He stopped inviting friends over. His best friend, Tyler, used to be at our house so often I bought his favorite cereal. After the funeral, Tyler came by twice, and both times Caleb said he was tired. The third time, Tyler’s mom called to ask if everything was okay, and I said yes, he just needs time.
He stopped coming down for dinner some nights. I’d call up the stairs, and he’d call back, “Can I eat in my room?” At first I said no. Then I said fine, just tonight. Then I stopped asking.
