two little words

Mary has been processing her sister’s death in a few different ways as only a two year old can do this past year. Abby died when Mary was only 4 months old, so Mary doesn’t have any memories of her own, but she has pictures of a little blond girl who looks like her, but isn’t her…

Abby died.

Mary said that one day. I looked at her and I said, “Yes, Abby died.” Then she said it the next day and the next. I grew accustomed to these two words and I agreed with her each time. But the most memorable time that she said it was when we were around the table at my grandmother’s apartment. Mary had gotten down from her chair and was eye to eye with her great grandmother talking, saying everything that came into her head.

What’s your name? My name is Mary? What’s that? What’s your favorite color? I like pink and purple. This is my water. Abby died.

The chatter from the adults stopped. Everyone looked at Mary. I had heard her say this dozens of times. They hadn’t. There’s nothing to say except, “Yes, Abby died.”