He picks up a Shutterfly book his father made several years ago…our family before the flood.
There are pictures of flowers taped over my adopted son’s face. One of his victims has placed them over his face because her grief is still deep, and the righteous anger with it.
To her younger brother this is a strange thing. Who is this teenage boy? Why is his face covered?
I explain it to him. I explain the story using the simplest words I can find–the words of a fairy tale, a bedtime story. Only no one wants to tell the story of why the little girl has covered her “brother” in flowers any more than we want to face the hurt that happens when someone you trust and love betrays you and all you hold dear.
Hm, little girl in the picture, I will always hold you, dear.
It is my job, like breathing.