Summer camp. Kids go to summer camp. They lay out their clothes. They get a new bathing suit and shorts and sunscreen and bug spray. We label it all–the sleeping bag, the pillow, even the sunscreen and bug spray.
Then, we look for a special item that reminds them of their dead father.
It's time for my kids to go to camp. It's time for a special kind of camp for special kids who've lost someone they love.
Peanut knew what she would pack.
Bug is still struggling to decide. All of his items are technology-related and not easily packed. He struggles to generaliize those experiences with Bob to items. Try as I might, I cannot help him see a connection between the experience and a "thing." He doesn't want to bring a photo. The pain on his face is excruciating for me to see. All fourteen years of that boy are working to hold in so much loss and hurt.
I hope camp is everything he needs it to be. I hope it is everything Peanut needs it to be. I feel blessed that such a thing exists. At the same time, I hate that my children need it. I hate that anybody needs it.