Ignorance is bliss
In my case - that was very true.
At seven years of age, I was a pretty stupid girl. Blind to the ways of the world and yet pure from the pain that would soon be felt in life. All that mattered to me was acing my P.E class - hoping I'd learn to swim (which till this day has been very unsuccessful). My vision clouded with the colors of the crayons I used to illustrate the doodles in those large sheets of paper.
I remember quite well how I was writing my first 'book' - a version of my own illustrated Jack and the Beanstalk. I guess I'd always been a sucker for romance, even as a child, as there ended up being something of a love story. I still have that book - painted cover, messy squiggles of words that I considered as a handwriting.
It's stowed somewhere in my desk drawer, as a memory of the first time I'd written a decent story. It was one of the most significant childhood memories in my life, considering it was quite close to the first loss I had.
Had it been a few weeks after? Or months before? The details of when exactly are fuzzy. But it was while I was seven. I was anything but knowledgeable on how to handle the news I was going to get.
Funny how well the details of that particular day are still in my mind, compared to everything else that had happened in my life at that age. I remembered I was having a Math Flash Test - basic questions on the addition and subtraction of numbers. Of course at that time, it felt like the biggest challenge in my life.
Mid-way through my cracking the code of:
someone from the school office entered the room and requested for me to come to the office. Personally, I felt relieved. Now I won't have to write the test. Excusing myself from the class, I followed the lady to the office who was eerily silent, casting me worried glances.
But I was too absent-minded, staring at the butterfly with dark brown wings that flew by. I still remember - it had a spiral-like design on its wings that made me smile. But that smile was short-lasting.
Entering the cool office, I looked up to see my mom sitting on one of the seats not too far away from me. Her eyes were puffy and red and the moment her gaze met mine, I knew something was wrong.
Opening her mouth, she whispered, "Grandpa passed away."