Breaking my heart

Ay, sweet Sing-Sing. How do you do it?

Her grandpa passed away just two weeks shy of her first birthday. How telling is it that she still talks about him and knows what songs he played on the guitar?

Just now she was playing with the (unplugged) phone. She called first her Uncle R (in the US), then her Tia J (here in MX). Then, she had a converstion that went like this:

"Bueno, Grandpa? Como Estas? (You want to) Come visit Abuelita house? (You want to come) see me? (On a) Plane? Ok. Ok. Si. "

My mother in law always asks me if I am living with sort of a mirage of my Dad still living. Since I am so far away , she says, is it easier to pretend he is still living, working, growing hot chili plants on his deck?

I wish I could pretend that. Unfortunately my memory is a little but better than my three year olds and my imagination a little more lacking. At least I find comfort that he lives on in her imagination. We continue to kiss his photo at bedtime and I can *almost* make it halfway through the song Hotel California on the radio before starting to cry.

And before the tears even start to flow, there is sweet Sing-Sing telling me from her carseat -

"Don't cry mami. Sing! Grandpa song."