Stages Of Grief

“But she is not dead!” Norin was annoyed. No one believed him. His dad exchanged a look with Fjoda.

“What makes you so sure about that?” he asked.

“She would have told me! She always told me everything. Why would she have lied about something so important? She wouldn’t. So, there you have it. She is not dead!” Norin poked his supper. Rice and beans again. It must have been Fjoda cooking.

Dad sighed. He turned back to his own plate but didn’t eat. He just stared at it.

It was an uncomfortable evening. After supper, Norin went to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. He could hear his dad and Fjoda silently clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.

“You know, I’ve read about the stages of grief,” Fjoda said suddenly. “He might just be denying the reality. That is understandable and perfectly normal. It’s, like, the first stage. Denial. Then comes anger, imaginary talks with the dead and finally acceptance of the new reality. He will get there in his own time. But he will.”

Dad grunted. “I’m just worried about him. They were inseparable, and he is not the one to make new friends easily.”

“I dn’t nnd ne feends!” Norin yelled. Toothpaste splattered the mirror. He spat out and tried again. “I don’t need new friends. I have the world’s best friend already.”

Norin stormed into his room and slammed the door shut.

“And here’s anger,” he could hear Fjoda mutter.

He threw himself on his bed. They just didn’t understand. How could they truly believe that Benja was not here any more?

A soft knock on his door made him sit up.

“What?”

Dad poked his head inside.

“Can I come in?” Norin nodded, and his dad sat himself next to him.

“Do you want to talk?” his dad asked.

“Do you want to understand?” Norin asked. But then, without waiting for an answer, it all came out. Tears were streaming down his face.

“It just can’t be true!” he sobbed.

Dad put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Sometimes things happen that just shouldn’t happen.”