This Morning Broke Me

This morning, I got a phone call from “Poppy’s” number.

When I answered, it wasn’t him. It was “Nana.”

My heart lifted for a second—then she said, “It’s not a good morning. Rick died.”

And everything in me sank.

Nana and Poppy have been staples in Kelly’s life. They raised her when she was a baby. She lived in their home. They loved her like their own. They were her bonus grandparents.

Life has gotten busy these past few years, and we haven’t seen them as much as we should’ve. But every night Kelly sleeps with “Nana’s Blanket”—the one Nana hand-knitted for her. She still tells stories about their house, their hugs, their laughter. She loves them deeply.

And now he’s gone.

I’m sitting here, a sobbing mess, trying to figure out how to tell her. This news is going to break her heart.

And in the middle of it all, I’m praying his services fall on a night when I have her. Because I know her father won’t let her come if he doesn’t have to. He hated them—because they stood up for me during the custody battle. He dragged their names through the mud like the narcissist he is.

All I can do now is hope the timing works out. For Kelly. For her to say goodbye.

How do you tell your child that someone who helped raise them is gone?