Blood Relatives
July 30th, 2013
Some may believe that telling a six-year-old that someone they love has been murdered could potentially scar them for life. My parents believed that, as did I, but that wasn’t enough to persuade us not to tell Jenna. My parents were so distraught that they couldn’t even talk, and so the job was left to me. It had been three weeks since the murder, and the police had officially closed the case on Anna’s murder (well, except for the trial). No longer were there police cars and crime technicians surrounding our house. Jenna had been asking questions for the entire three weeks, and even at six years old she knew something was wrong. “Why are their police cars?” she would ask me. “Did someone get hurt?”
Up until that day, I wasn’t able to respond to her questions. I would simply pat her head and smile before quickly walking away and crying into my pillow on my bed or in the corner stall of the restaurant’s bathroom, depending on where we were at the time.
That day, though, I finally accepted completely myself what had happened on July 8th, and a look from my mother told me that it was time; Jenna could not be held in the dark any longer.
I had her sit down on her bed and I brought her favorite stuffed animal, a moose named Johnny, and a box of tissues and laid them on her bed as well. I took her hands into mine, and had to stop for a second and remind myself of how small her hands were, of how young she was. I knew I had to be gentle about this. “Jenna,” I said to her. “I have to tell you something. But before I do, I need you to know that you are such a big girl, okay? Can you tell me that you’re a big girl?”
Jenna, intuitive as she was, asked, “Is this about the police cars at Anna’s house?” I tried to be brave and compose myself, but a tear fell down my face anyway. Jenna’s expression changed instantly; I could almost feel her worry. “It is, isn’t it?” she asked again.
I nodded my head. “Yes. But first, you need to tell me that you’re a big girl and that you’re going to be okay.”
Jenna looked up at me and nodded her head. “I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl.” I could tell that she was trying to be brave, trying to convince me and herself that what she was saying was true.
I pulled her into a hug and took a deep breath. “Do you remember when Grandma Joy passed away and went to a better place?”
Jenna immediately understood. Tears cascaded down her face. “Is that where Anna is?” she asked, her eyes looking up at me, pleading me to tell her no, that her best friend was not dead.
It hurt more than I could ever begin to explain that I couldn’t tell her that.
“Yes,” I said, cautiously, unsure how Jenna was going to react.
I expected her to scream, to cry out, to fall onto her bed and flail around. Instead, she asked me how she died. “She was just here the other day,” she said. “She wasn’t sick or anything.”
Her innocence was what killed me the most. She looked so young, so naïve to the evils of this world, and I knew that what I was about to tell her would make her less naïve to those evils. I wiped her tears away with my thumbs as I thought about how to tell her what had happened. “Well, Jenna,” I began. “There are bad people in this world. Do you remember how Mommy told you not to talk to strangers?” Jenna nodded, not understanding where I was going with this. “Well, sometimes the bad people aren’t strangers; sometimes they’re your friends.” I took a deep breath. “Jenna, Anna’s parents are bad people. They didn’t want her anymore, so…” I trailed off, not able to actually say the words.
Jenna was silent for a few moments, but her cries were louder than before. She kept taking tissues from the box and wiping her face. After a few minutes, she looked up at me again. “Where’s Benjamin?” she asked. “Is he still with them?”
A few more tears fell down my face. “Jenna, honey…” I trailed off again, not sure how to say what needed to be said. “Anna’s parents made Benjamin hurt Anna.” Jenna’s eyes widened with recognition, and she leaped at me, pulling me into her as tightly as she could. I cradled her in my arms and tried to soothe her. “I know, Jenna. I know. But Anna’s in a better place now, and her parents are in jail for what they did.
Jenna didn’t say anything else, and neither did I. We just sat there, two grieving sisters, both unable to comprehend the evil which had entered our lives.
Up until that day, I wasn’t able to respond to her questions. I would simply pat her head and smile before quickly walking away and crying into my pillow on my bed or in the corner stall of the restaurant’s bathroom, depending on where we were at the time.
That day, though, I finally accepted completely myself what had happened on July 8th, and a look from my mother told me that it was time; Jenna could not be held in the dark any longer.
I had her sit down on her bed and I brought her favorite stuffed animal, a moose named Johnny, and a box of tissues and laid them on her bed as well. I took her hands into mine, and had to stop for a second and remind myself of how small her hands were, of how young she was. I knew I had to be gentle about this. “Jenna,” I said to her. “I have to tell you something. But before I do, I need you to know that you are such a big girl, okay? Can you tell me that you’re a big girl?”
Jenna, intuitive as she was, asked, “Is this about the police cars at Anna’s house?” I tried to be brave and compose myself, but a tear fell down my face anyway. Jenna’s expression changed instantly; I could almost feel her worry. “It is, isn’t it?” she asked again.
I nodded my head. “Yes. But first, you need to tell me that you’re a big girl and that you’re going to be okay.”
Jenna looked up at me and nodded her head. “I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl.” I could tell that she was trying to be brave, trying to convince me and herself that what she was saying was true.
I pulled her into a hug and took a deep breath. “Do you remember when Grandma Joy passed away and went to a better place?”
Jenna immediately understood. Tears cascaded down her face. “Is that where Anna is?” she asked, her eyes looking up at me, pleading me to tell her no, that her best friend was not dead.
It hurt more than I could ever begin to explain that I couldn’t tell her that.
“Yes,” I said, cautiously, unsure how Jenna was going to react.
I expected her to scream, to cry out, to fall onto her bed and flail around. Instead, she asked me how she died. “She was just here the other day,” she said. “She wasn’t sick or anything.”
Her innocence was what killed me the most. She looked so young, so naïve to the evils of this world, and I knew that what I was about to tell her would make her less naïve to those evils. I wiped her tears away with my thumbs as I thought about how to tell her what had happened. “Well, Jenna,” I began. “There are bad people in this world. Do you remember how Mommy told you not to talk to strangers?” Jenna nodded, not understanding where I was going with this. “Well, sometimes the bad people aren’t strangers; sometimes they’re your friends.” I took a deep breath. “Jenna, Anna’s parents are bad people. They didn’t want her anymore, so…” I trailed off, not able to actually say the words.
Jenna was silent for a few moments, but her cries were louder than before. She kept taking tissues from the box and wiping her face. After a few minutes, she looked up at me again. “Where’s Benjamin?” she asked. “Is he still with them?”
A few more tears fell down my face. “Jenna, honey…” I trailed off again, not sure how to say what needed to be said. “Anna’s parents made Benjamin hurt Anna.” Jenna’s eyes widened with recognition, and she leaped at me, pulling me into her as tightly as she could. I cradled her in my arms and tried to soothe her. “I know, Jenna. I know. But Anna’s in a better place now, and her parents are in jail for what they did.
Jenna didn’t say anything else, and neither did I. We just sat there, two grieving sisters, both unable to comprehend the evil which had entered our lives.