Brady came home from school with good news:
“Great Grampa is going to be alive again, Mom!”
For a moment I couldn’t speak. I dropped everything and gave him my full attention. “What do you mean?” I asked him.
“Oh,” he said. “At school I got a wish, and I wished for Great Grampa to be alive again!”
He beamed at me, proud of the gift of his wish. He showed it to me. It looked like this:
I looked at his face. He absolutely believed that it’s true.
Then he ran off to play.
He has brought it up again, when Kyle puts on the Notre Dame sweatshirt that was my Grampa’s, that is too small for me and too big for him, but he wears it to school on chilly days. “This was Great Grampa’s,” he’ll say. And then Brady says “He’s dead. But I wished him back alive, so he’s going to be alive again someday.”
I repeat the “in due time,” part to him, and remind him that this could take a very long time.
“I know,” he says. “I’ll wait.”