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Daddy

When I was 8 years old my father died suddenly of a heart attack in the middle of the night.

I remember to this day getting up early in the morning to go to the bathroom and instinctively feeling that something
was very wrong in the house. It was unusually quiet and kind of eerie.  I looked up the hall to my 
parents' room and the door was shut as always.  

I went back to bed and then later my mom came down
and told my sister and me that Daddy had died.  
It was a very sad time for me as I loved my dad with all my heart.  

What I remember the most is that I was so very afraid that something was going to happen to my
mom and that I would never see her again. For many years, until I was in about the 7th grade, I was
afraid to be away from her for very long.

I don’t recall my mom ever talking to my sister and me about Daddy dying.  
​My saving grace was my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Hammond.

Mrs. Hammond took me under her wing and talked to me about death and dying. She spent a lot of time
with me and made me feel special.  I have never forgotten her and the impact she had on me.

Fifty years ago, I went back to my grammar school to see if I could reconnect with
her, and tell her what an impact she had on me.  Unfortunately, they didn’t know where she was.
​
If you have or know a young child who is experiencing the loss of a loved one, please don’t be afraid to
talk to them about death and dying. Understand that this child is feeling very insecure and may become
very clingy and will need a lot of reassurance and love. Remember that over time this sadness will turn
to peace.

Karen R., Fresno, California
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