Today I had to tell my children that their great grandmother had died.

My grandmother, Pauline, was likely one of the toughest women I've ever met. This was a woman who had lived with severe Rheumatoid Arthritis for well over forty years of her life. Her fingers, twisted and gnarled, were the casualties in a life long autoimmune war running rampage through her cells, joints, and tissues. Pauline was also likely the most stubborn woman I've ever met, and that includes me. She simply refused to give up on life, even when everyone else had. She had been fighting the good fight for many a year and today she simply couldn't fight any longer. I pray that she finds peace tonight in the comforting arms of a higher power.

Tonight, I alternate between laughing at the memories and weeping with the overwhelming sadness. I weep for my grandfather, who after 62 years of marriage, lies alone tonight in his grief. As I vacillate between smiling and crying, I catch the attention of my two younger children. My oldest, is now 14 and was very close to this grandparent and has been grieving all week for what we all knew was coming, as sure as the sun rises in the east. My two boys though, have remained blissfully ignorant of the stress and sadness we have felt the past two weeks.

That is, until today.

As I sat on the couch, staring at the wall today Ewan came over and asked what I was doing. I told him I was sad and just thinking. When he asked why, I decided to sit down with the boys and tell them. As I told them their Grandma Pauline had died, they both said, 'Oh you mean she went to the graveyard.' Yes, I replied, her body is in the graveyard, but her soul goes on to Heaven. Vaughn (my typical 5 year old) immediately wanted to know if her skeleton was going to come out of the graveyard and get him; to which I replied, "No, her skeleton will stay put...and have you been watching the Spongebob episode with the Health Inspector again?" With a sheepish grin on his face, he said, "Yep."

Ewan kept looking at me funny though, a little perplexed if you will. I asked him if he was ok and he asked, "Mom, if you are so sad, why don't I see tears?" I realized in that instant, that all the social skills programs in the world cannot prepare a child with autism for some of the complexities of life. I then had to explain that sometimes we are so sad, that tears no longer come and the sadness stays inside and makes your heart ache and your soul suffers for the loss of someone you love. Heaven, God, souls, and the afterlife are not things that Ewan really gets. Of course, not many 7 year old boys get these concepts. But for Ewan, it is too abstract for him, and may always remain an elusive mystery. Though I hope and pray that someday, he might understand and believe.

Most people tend to think that those with autism lack empathy. I am of the mind that they do not lack empathy altogether, but rather have the Herculean task of expressing the feelings brought forth in an overwhelming situation. Tonight, Ewan asked me what he could do to make me feel better. I told him the only thing that can help me feel better is time. He said, 'Oh you mean at 5:30?' Ummm, no much longer than that I had to explain. Then he smiled and perked up all the sudden and said, 'Mom! I know what will make you feel better! A Diet Coke!'

Oh how that boy knows me. And certainly, as Ewan faithfully made me an icy Diet Coke and delivered it with a hug and a smile I certainly felt as if the world made sense once again