Chapter 15 - MY DAUGHTER’S DOLL
The rag doll became important for reasons adults did not predict.
My daughter carried it everywhere after the pantry.
Bed.
Breakfast.
Car.
Therapy.
Eventually Dr. Hayes asked whether the doll had a name.
“Caroline.”
My chest tightened.
She had named it after her mother months earlier.
I had forgotten.
Then I understood why the third pantry incident began when my mother took the doll.
My parents had not merely removed a toy.
They had taken the object my daughter associated with her mother.
No wonder she panicked.
My father later admitted he disliked the name.
He believed constantly invoking Caroline kept my daughter “inside grief.”
He was wrong.
The doll helped her carry grief safely.
May you like
Again:
Adults interpreting comfort as defiance because it did not come through them.
