When Cindy, my daughter, started mentioning that her grandma always had a ‘friend’ around, I didn’t think much of it. I assumed it was someone she knew. But then Cindy dropped a bombshell – the ‘friend’ was named William, the exact name of my late father.

Growing up, my family was incredibly close-knit. My parents were always there for me, cheering me on at my field hockey games and attending every parent-teacher meeting. Even when I went to college, they made an effort to visit often, and my mom would bring delicious food for me.

But everything changed when my father passed away. My mom, who used to be a free-spirited, artistic soul, became a shadow of her former self. The vibrant spirit that once filled our home disappeared, and my mom seemed to withdraw into herself.

Now, she yearned to spend more time with me, especially bonding with Cindy, my six-year-old daughter. Sometimes I would drop off Cindy at my mom’s place, and sometimes she would pick her up for a fun adventure together. But recently, I noticed that Cindy would cry and avoid her grandmother when she was dropped off. It worried me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening when they were alone.

I finally decided to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Cindy while we were baking together – our favorite bonding activity. As she mixed the batter, I asked her why she cried when grandma was home and if something had happened.

Cindy took a deep breath and confessed that it was because of grandma’s so-called ‘friend’ who was always around. She mentioned how grandma would ask her to say hello to William before they ate anything, even though she had never seen him. The mention of William sent a chill down my spine because that was my father’s name.

I reassured Cindy that grandma wouldn’t be friends with scary people and distracted her by suggesting we make delicious cupcakes. But deep down, I was confused and concerned. What was going on?

The next day, I had a serious conversation with my mom. I shared everything Cindy had told me, and my mom’s face twisted with sorrow. She reached out to hold my hand and explained that she still felt a connection with my father, even after his passing. She admitted to talking to him as a way to cope with her grief. She had mentioned this to Cindy a few times, not to scare her, but as a reminder that grandpa was still with them.

My heart broke for my mom as I realized the depth of her pain. While I understood her coping mechanism, I knew it was essential for Cindy to hear the truth from her. We spent hours reminiscing about my father, and over donuts and coffee, I encouraged my mom to have a heartfelt conversation with Cindy and explain everything.

It wasn’t easy for my mom to confront the situation, but she agreed to do it. She started going to therapy, and it made a significant difference in her mood. She even picked up painting again, something she and Cindy now enjoy together.

To my surprise, Cindy was incredibly understanding. She embraced spending time with her grandmother, and my mom made the effort to keep her conversations with my dad private. We were all on a journey of healing and finding peace.

This experience taught me that it’s crucial to address our emotions and seek help when needed. We may carry our loved ones in our hearts, but it’s essential to create a healthy environment for our children as they navigate through life.