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Tell Me My Favorite Fairy Tale



“Don’t tell me the sky’s the limit when there’s footprints on the moon.”                                                                                                                                                Paul Brandt


…the story below is from a day back in April of 2012. I wrote it down right after it happened, word for word. I didn’t want to forget any details. Julian, my four-year-old, had been claiming for some time that he could “see” his dead brother, Gabriel–flying around in the air, playing, smiling, waving, sometimes even popping in at bedtime to say goodnight.


Gabriel’s eyes were “sparkly,” Julian would say, and…”don’t worry, Mama, Gabriel’s very happy. He flies like a bird!” Most of the time, I convinced myself that Julian was making all of this up to get my attention, to get me to open my eyes to see him. But, randomly, I allowed myself to believe him…because having Gabriel with us, in any way, in any form, brought me peace. Anyway, here is the story, with the grandparents mentioned in the story also deceased. Here, is the fairy tale…

“Morning, Mama! Are you awake?” It was 5:30 a.m., and Julian’s face was looming over my head.

“Umphf,” I mumbled, pulling the covers up under my chin.

“I think it might be foggy out there!” he exclaimed, pointing towards one of our high bedroom windows.

“Usually is,” I yawned. “Here,” I pulled back the covers, “come snuggle with me for a bit while I wake up.”

“Okay! But first I gotta go potty.”

“Of course, you do,” I sighed. “Alright. I’ll come help you.”

On our way to the bathroom, Julian stopped to pick up a framed photograph. “I like this picture of Gabriel,” he smiled. “It’s my favorite. He’s sleeping.”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s a good picture of him. He looks so much like you in that photograph. His cheekbones, here,” my fingers brushed against the glass, “they’re just like yours.”

Julian waited until I was done, then gently put the photograph back in its place while glancing up towards the window. “Might be hard to see him today.”

I followed his eyes outside. “What do you mean?”

“With all that fog outside. It might be hard to see him playing out there with Grandma and Grandpa.”

I stared out the window, wondering if I could be wrong. Maybe he wasn’t making these stories up…maybe he wasn’t pretending.

“Tell me something, Julian,” I said after a pause, praying for a believable answer. “What color is Gabriel’s hair?”

“Um…” he paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, I think it’s blue.”

And, then again…maybe not.


Thank you for “sharing” and “liking” any blog that moves you. Have a special day…♥



Photo credits via Featured photo credit: katmary via / CC BY. “Magic Hands” photo credit: Ferran. via / CC BY-NC-ND. Fairy tale castle photo credit: lapidim via Visual Hunt / CC BY.

Just living is not must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. ~Hans Christian Andersen

I am a mother, a blogger and the author of the memoir Pitter-Pat: A Mother's Journey from Loss to New Life. I am currently in training to be a life coach through Martha Beck's Wayfinder Life Coach Training Program. I write about grief, love, and the beauty of new beginnings. My other interests are meditating, walking outside and doing pretty much anything that brings me closer to nature.

One Comment

  1. Erick
    December 18, 2017

    a heartbreaking post, thank you for telling me your true story.

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