Lucian's constant companion, up until this summer, was their German Shepherd, Spike. As Lucian got older and went to preschool, it was determined that he had a developmental disability. I forget the term for it now, but it's like a mild version of autism. It basically meant that he was very sensitive to tastes and touches (he can't *stand* to get his hair cut, for instance), was very introverted, and could only accept and understand very specific instructions. An example is when Susan tells him to get ready, she has to do so in this fashion: "Lucian, put down your toy. Now, sit on the couch. Now, put on your socks. Now put on your shoes. Now tie your shoes." If you just told him to put on his shoes, he'd do so with no socks, without tying them. And probably on the wrong feet.

Because Lucian was so introverted, his best friend and constant companion was his dog Spike. To hear Susan tell of it, Spike would be anywhere Lucian was. Constantly. Either exploring in the woods or running up and down the driveway while he raced on his bike. Whenever Susan needed to find the kids, she'd tell Spike to go get Lucian. Spike would return, with Lucian's sleeve in his mouth, pulling him home.

Spike died earlier this summer - complications from Lyme disease, I think. Poor Lucian was devastated. To help him through his grief, the whole family put together this special grave at the edge of Susan's garden. They surrounded it with rocks and planted flowers above it, and Lucian placed his very special and favorite toys in a very particular arrangement. No one was ever allowed to disturb the toys. No one was ever allowed to cut the flowers. And Lucian would spend time every day at Spike's grave, talking to him or showing him a new toy he'd gotten.

The day that Susan and I told the kids about Grandma's death, Lucian went out and sat at Spike's grave and told him about it. He told Spike that Grandma was coming up to sit next to God with him, and to look for her. Lucian told his mother that he was glad that neither Grandma nor Spike had to be lonely in heaven now.

God, that makes me cry.