Apparently children process grief very differently to adults. And to be honest, I envy them this innate ability, that we seem to grow out of.

A good friend of mine told me that children do not take on more than they can handle in terms of emotional trauma. They manage it, take on what they can, and then leave the rest for another time.

This made things a whole lot clearer for me. In my daughter’s case, this manifests as her asking about her father seemingly out of the blue. Getting sad about his absence for a while (increasingly longer periods of sadness, but less frequent), and then moving on to the next thing.

We’re in a bit of a “sad about dad” period at the moment. She’s not asking so many questions this time, and is simply expressing her sadness at his absence.

It’s difficult for me in a number of ways. As a single parent, I have responsibility for everything, and it is hard for my daughter to understand that I’m not responsible for her father’s absence. So I’ve had to answer “Why won’t you let me see daddy?”.

The most heartbreaking of these periods was when my daughter suddenly broke down over something seemingly insignificant. Once she was calmer, we talked, and it transpired that she was scared of losing me. I asked her why she thought she would lose me, and she said that she had lost daddy and didn’t want to lose me. That was tough. She wasn’t quite three years old when that conversation occurred. How unfair that at not even three, her logic and reasoning had driven her to the conclusion that losing her mother was inevitable. After an explanation that I was going nowhere, and she would not lose me, this led her onto “Why doesn’t daddy want me?”. This period, whilst intense and terribly sad, was very short lived. And she was presenting as her happy self again later that same day.

This period is longer, and feels a little deeper. She’s a little withdrawn, and wants a lot of cuddles. So I’m going with it, and indulging her. Whatever she needs, she’ll get from me.

She innately knows what she can handle, and she comes to me for a little more when she’s ready. I’m not about to rush her process, nor force her to confront more than she is ready to. We will get through this together, but we will do it at her pace.

I feel hugely guilty that this is something she has to deal with. But in my heart I know I could not have done more to promote her and her father’s relationship.

I’m also incensed that she has to go through this. I’m so incredibly angry that he can put her through this. And also terrified because this is not a clear process for her. He reappears unexpectedly in her life, and undoes all the healing she’s done so far. She can’t ever get over him, because he just won’t let her.

It isn’t fair to keep changing the goalposts on her. She can’t possibly be expected to get over not seeing her father, when he suddenly waltzes back into her life. She can’t be expected to be comfortable and secure in his affection and company, because he’s got a proven track record of just dropping her and being suddenly absent again.

I wish she didn’t want him, but she does. I wish she didn’t hurt over him, but she does. I wish she didn’t miss him. She doesn’t really. She misses the idea of him. The reality of him is far too uncertain and unsettling for her to long for.

I wish I wasn’t hurt by her noticing his absence. I wish I didn’t know what was coming: the inevitable reintroduction, subsequent let down, and restarting of this whole grief process over again. I wish I knew how to protect her from that.

I am. I do. I don’t.

I wish I could break it down, like my daughter does. Decide that I can deal with only so much today, and leave the rest for another time. But I can’t. It haunts me. I know I can’t change it, much of it is outside of my control. But that doesn’t stop it being there. A constant grey cloud.

I’ll keep talking. Keep talking to adults, who had absent parents as children. Adults who were let down time and again. Adults raising children on their own. I’ll keep talking to my daughter too. But most importantly, I’ll keep listening. I’ll keep cuddling. I’ll keep following her lead.