Do they even speak English in Chicago?

So no sooner do I semi-recover from Karen's death in December, then I must grapple with my sister leaving California. The Mateo took me to lunch yesterday where I bawled my way through 2 ice-teas & half a turkey-burger. After lunch, I did a cardio workout.

And then I had to tell James that Auntie Dawn & Uncle Tim were leaving California.

James crumpled into a sniffling, crying mess for 15 minutes.

"Do they even speak English in Chicago?" he wanted to know between sobs. "Will I ever see Ede again?"

Later that evening, I went into the bathroom to check on James in the shower. He was whimpering to himself and drawing huge hearts in the steamy glass of the shower door.

"This is how big my heart is for Ede," he explained.

How I wish I could shield him from heart-ache! But I can't. Change & loss are a given. It never gets easier, but maybe we just learn how to manage it better?