It All Feels the Same, I Guess

My brother-in-law, the kids' beloved Uncle Stevie, was in for the long weekend, and left tonight on a red eye back home. After he'd gotten into PJs and brushed his teeth, N appeared by the side of my bed, looking somber, and handed me a note. It read:

Dear Mommy,

I am very sad that Uncle Steve left and that reminds me about Grampa Jack and he left us and now I'm about to cry.

Love N to Mommy or to Mommy love N*

P.S. I watched Family Guy with Uncle.

I don't know whether to laugh (because ohdeargodinheaven he met Grandpa Jack--my father, who passed away in 2007, when N was six years old--maybe four times in his life, tops, for a couple of hours at a time, and so I have no idea why he's so attached to his memory, but I guess someone ought to be) or cry or fly back East and strangle Uncle Steve for letting him watch shows I have explicitly forbidden. I also don't know how to teach him how to differentiate between different kinds of feelings of sad. "I'm sad about Grandpa Jack," is what he falls back on almost any time he starts to cry about anything, from a skinned knee to a disappointing golf game, when he's asked to explain why he's so upset.

I do know, however, that I love when he writes me notes. You just never know what's going to be inside one of those haphazardly folded missives. That boy. I say it all the time. That boy.

*This is how he signs ever letter or note or ANYTHING he ever writes to me EVER, and is the way he's done it since he was four years old. I do not know why. I do not really want it to stop.