Billy* and his sister were my first referrals that school year. Billy was in third grade, and his sister was in the fifth grade. Their parents came to my office during registration and made a personal referral for both children. Their paternal grandfather had died a few weeks earlier.
The grandfather lived in Michigan. The children had never met him until the previous summer. When the grandfather learned he had only a short time to live, he asked their father to bring them to Michigan so that he could see them. Although it had been a brief visit, they also met members of their father’s family for the first time. The grandfather died shortly after that. Only their father returned to Michigan for the funeral.
The parents had already had discussions with the children. I did not see problems although I continued to see them and talk with them. The girl was more interested in finishing the fifth grade and going on to the junior high. She was anxious to be more grown up. Her grandfather’s death was of little concern to her as she had only seen him the one time. Billy was somewhat confused about whether he should be grieving for the man he did not know. He seemed to be watching his father to decide how sad he should be. The father was accepting it well, and Billy soon moved on. He was a happy third grader.
The family lived next door to Billy’s maternal grandparents. His mother worked, and her parents had kept the children from the time they were toddlers. Billy was especially close to his grandfather. From an early, age Billy had gone almost everywhere his grandfather went. They ran errands together, played games together, and both loved fishing.
Just before the Christmas break, tragedy struck. The maternal grandfather had a massive, fatal heart attack. The suddenness left the family in shock and disbelief. Billy went through a rough time as he worked through the grieving process. His sister was sad, but she did not grieve as deeply as Billy. I saw him on a regular schedule and other times when he just wanted to talk.
As the school year neared a close, Billy was doing well. One Monday afternoon in early May, I was doing paperwork after school. Bus riders were outside playing. My door opened like an explosion had hit it. Billy burst into the room sobbing, “Mrs. Standifer, I have had another death in my family.” He was already seated at a table with his head down, body heaving with sobs, before I could put work aside and take my place beside him.
All the while, my mind was racing. There was something not quite right about this situation. This child had been at school all day, and I had been on that campus all day. Had no one suspected a problem?
I put my hand on his shoulder, and after some words of sympathy asked who had died.
He blurted out, “My rabbit.”
Oh dear!
I asked what had happened, and he began his sad story. His rabbit was in a hutch in the back yard. The family had left early on Sunday morning for an outing. Billy had forgotten to put out water for his bunny. It had been a hot day. (I had pet rabbits as a child, so I had already guessed the end of the story.) Sure enough, when they got home late in the day, the heat and lack of water had caused the bunny to die. Billy had cried and felt remorseful because it was his fault. He had helped his Dad bury the rabbit.
I explained that sometimes everyone forgets their chores. He was still crying when the rest of the story came out. He had told a friend on the playground about the loss and had cried. His sister heard him and began to tease him and call him a cry baby in front of his friend. This embarrassed him and made him mad. He had chased her around the playground telling her to shut up. At some point, he decided he needed my help. He admitted that she had also teased him at home.
After he calmed down, I stepped outside and spoke to his sister. She agreed that she would cease her teasing. Fortunately, their bus came about that time. The little boy was not so much sad as he was angry.
It was not mentioned again, and he was given a second chance. The Dad got him another rabbit. He told me that he was taking excellent care of it.
*not his real name