I often say that I want to spend more time with my nephews and neice and I have fantasies about playing a more significant role in their lives, but it usually doesn't happen.
That's one of the reasons I felt all kinds of good about helping my 13 year old nephew with his school assignment. He had to do a family tree and decided he wanted to do it as a website. I thought about it and realized we could do some cool CSS stuff and he would learn a lot in the process so I said sure.
He was a delight to work with because he's really smart and could see through problems quickly and offer solutions. By our last session on Sunday, we was catching my coding errors as I typed them.
Then something interesting happened. He had made up a special box colour for those who died in "unnatural" ways. He included his grandfather's family who had died in Auschwitz and also his aunt (my sister-in-law--his mom's-- sister). I said, "Oh, because she committed suicide?"
"Suicide?" he answered, looking puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Oops.
Which led to me explaining that while, yes, she had had a well-developed case of MS, she didn't die directly from it as he had surmised. Nor directly from the manic-depressive disorder she suffered from (though more directly from that that). I explained how, when he was 2 years old and his little brother was 1 day old, she had vanished only to turn up a week later floating in Lake Ontario after having withdrawn a bunch of money from her account and checking into a hotel.
He asked interesting questions including how his mom had reacted and how his grandparents had. I told him I had been a pall bearer at the funeral.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I was asked," I replied.
We agreed that he shouldn't tell his parents he knew nor give his little brother more information at this time. After all, it was that birth which might have made her feel "I will never have these joys myself".
I also told him a story about himself he didn't remember. After she died, they told him that she had moved to Israel. But he was always a smart kid and something eventually didn't make sense. When he was five, out of the blue during a car ride he said, "Is Auntie R. dead?"
I know he's mature enough to handle this news and I hugged him before we went back to work. I hadn't expected to have such a personal role to play that day, but it worked out that way.
I should email him and find out if he has a need to talk some more about it and let him know I'm open to that anytime.
That's one of the reasons I felt all kinds of good about helping my 13 year old nephew with his school assignment. He had to do a family tree and decided he wanted to do it as a website. I thought about it and realized we could do some cool CSS stuff and he would learn a lot in the process so I said sure.
He was a delight to work with because he's really smart and could see through problems quickly and offer solutions. By our last session on Sunday, we was catching my coding errors as I typed them.
Then something interesting happened. He had made up a special box colour for those who died in "unnatural" ways. He included his grandfather's family who had died in Auschwitz and also his aunt (my sister-in-law--his mom's-- sister). I said, "Oh, because she committed suicide?"
"Suicide?" he answered, looking puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Oops.
Which led to me explaining that while, yes, she had had a well-developed case of MS, she didn't die directly from it as he had surmised. Nor directly from the manic-depressive disorder she suffered from (though more directly from that that). I explained how, when he was 2 years old and his little brother was 1 day old, she had vanished only to turn up a week later floating in Lake Ontario after having withdrawn a bunch of money from her account and checking into a hotel.
He asked interesting questions including how his mom had reacted and how his grandparents had. I told him I had been a pall bearer at the funeral.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I was asked," I replied.
We agreed that he shouldn't tell his parents he knew nor give his little brother more information at this time. After all, it was that birth which might have made her feel "I will never have these joys myself".
I also told him a story about himself he didn't remember. After she died, they told him that she had moved to Israel. But he was always a smart kid and something eventually didn't make sense. When he was five, out of the blue during a car ride he said, "Is Auntie R. dead?"
I know he's mature enough to handle this news and I hugged him before we went back to work. I hadn't expected to have such a personal role to play that day, but it worked out that way.
I should email him and find out if he has a need to talk some more about it and let him know I'm open to that anytime.