Thanksgiving And Loss

(My sister and I are at our grandparents’ house, helping our grandma decorate the Christmas tree. Relevant to the story: this is our dad’s mother, and our parents recently divorced after North Carolina’s mandatory 366-day separation requirement had been met, meaning our mom and dad haven’t lived together in nearly two years. The phone rings.)

Grandma: “I’ll go get it; you girls keep working on the tree.”

(Our grandma has a long discussion on the landline; we can see her over in the kitchen. After the call, she rejoins us, looking upset.)

Sister: “Is something going on?”

Grandma: “No, no, nothing to worry about. [Great-Aunt] has been calling a lot and needs my support. She’s been taking [Great-Grandfather]’s death especially hard.”

Me: “Wait, what?!”

Sister: “He’s DEAD!?!”

Grandma: *taken aback* “I… I thought you knew!”

Sister: “When did he—”

Grandma: “He passed away three months ago. I thought your mother told you.”

Me: “Did you tell HER?”

Grandma: “…”

(Turned out that our dad and our aunt and uncle, all of whom saw my sister and me at least once a week, had all assumed our mom had told us about our great-grandfather’s death and that we were just dealing with it on our own. Made for a very awkward Thanksgiving.)