The Little Girl Lost

Our village experienced another tragedy yesterday. This little town has had more than its fair share of heartbreak over the years, and yet here is one more. A four-year-old girl who lived right down our street died from a gunshot wound.

This post is not about what happened or how it happened. This post is about The Little Girl herself and her relationship with her great-grandma.

We have lived in our home for 22 years, and have been friends with the neighbor a couple of doors down for just about all of that time. Our friend and neighbor is also the great-grandma of The Little Girl.

Our neighbor spent a lot of time with The Little Girl, as she was the go-to choice of babysitter for The Little Girl’s parents. Great-grandma was very happy to spend as much time as possible with The Little Girl, and they forged a close, loving bond.

For a time, The Little Girl’s parent lived with our friend. This made great-grandma even happier, since she spent time with The Little Girl every single day. Eventually, the parents found an apartment just down the street, so The Little Girl still spent a lot of time with great-grandma.

My wife often stops at our friend’s home to visit, especially on nice spring and summer days when they can sit outside under a tree and talk. As a result, my wife got to know The Little Girl much better than I did. I would wave to The Little Girl if she was outside as I drove by, and that the was the extent of my contact with her for a time.

I heard stories from my wife and our friend about how bright The Little Girl was. “When you talk to her, you can’t believe she is only three,” they both told me. “She really talks as if she were much older.” I was intrigued by the notion, but remained just a little bit skeptical.

We enjoyed several campfires in our yard last summer, and each time we did, we always invited our neighbor. The first time she came over for a fire, she brought The Little Girl with her. As I saw them walking across the yard, dimly illuminated by a street lamp, I thought to myself that I will finally get to meet this child prodigy. I was not disappointed.

The Little Girl’s sentence structure and word choices were not characteristic for a three-year-old. Heck, they weren’t even characteristic of a much older child. I can honestly say that talking with her was a lot like talking to a tiny adult. It was almost eerie!

The Little Girl knew what she liked and what she didn’t like. Great-grandma always came to our fires after the hot dog roasting portion of the evening had ended. She came in time for the s’mores, though. The first occasion that The Little Girl accompanied her to the marshmallow-toasting segment of our campfire festivities, The Little Girl did not want a s’more - she just wanted toasted marshmallows. She said she would not like a s'more, and after taking a bite of great-grandma’s, she validated the hypothesis.  “I only like the marshmallows," The Little Girl confirmed.  Ah, the kid was a campfire purist.

When ever the neighbor brought The Little Girl to our house for a visit, she always enjoyed our friendly cat. We have three cats. Most cats run to safety when the doorbell rings. Not our orange and white cat. When she hears the doorbell, she runs into the living room, jumps onto the back of the chair nearest the door, and awaits the new visitor who will surely pet her. The Little Girl always did, and then found every cat toy in the room in an attempt to get the cat to play. The cat often got tired out during The Little Girl’s visits, and would wander off into another room for some peace and quiet. The Little Girl was very energetic as most children are at that age.

This past Halloween, The Little Girl was sick and unable to go trick-or-treating. About five days later, the doorbell rang while my wife was in the shower. It was the neighbor along with The Little Girl, all dressed up in her Halloween costume. They were doing some “make up” trick-or-treating, and The Little Girl held out her pumpkin to me, looking hopeful that I might have some candy left. I told her I don’t let sick children in the house. She assured me that she was better, and held out that pumpkin again. Since we always buy enough candy for six times the actual number of trick-or-treaters we get, we had plenty of candy. I dropped one “fun size” candy bar into her pumpkin. She looked at the lone piece of candy, then looked at me expectantly, a sly smile on her face, knowing full well I was holding out. I grabbed the bowl of candy from the kitchen and dumped several huge handfuls into her pumpkin. The Little Girl’s face erupted with a big smile, and she told her great-grandma that they could go home now.

In more recent visits, The Little Girl had taken up a new hobby of jumping out from behind the door and shouting, “Boo!” This usually caught my wife by surprise, which delighted The Little Girl. The last time I saw The Little Girl, she was in the living room with my wife and our neighbor. I was watching TV in the family room, and I could hear the three of them creeping through the kitchen. I knew what was coming, so I prepared myself. When The Little Girl jumped into the room and shouted, I slowly looked at her and said, “Ahh,” in an unemotional, matter-of-fact tone. She thought that this was hilarious, but then jumped when I suddenly shouted, “Boo!” to her. After her initial surprise, she laughed at the fact that she ended up being the recipient of the shock rather than me.

Her last visit here was just two days before yesterday afternoon’s tragedy. In accordance with the coronavirus social distancing requirements, my wife would talk to the neighbor on the phone a few times each week. On Tuesday while I was in the shower, the doorbell rang. It was the neighbor bringing us some cupcakes that she and The Little Girl had made. My wife reported that as she opened the door, The Little Girl jumped out and quite effectively shouted, “Boo!”

Everyone mourns a tragedy, especially in a small village like this one. Each mourns in his or her own way. I am sure the parents are devastated. Still, my wife and I are both terribly concerned for our neighbor’s well-being going forward. In an instant, she lost the most important person in her life.

Social distancing makes this an even more stressful and sorrowful situation. There will be no funeral, no visitation, no goodbye.

When a young child dies, one wonders what that child might have accomplished in her life. They wonder, and they mourn what might have been. Right now, we are all mourning The Little Girl lost.