Chapter 17 - SOPHIA’S MOTHER
Sophia was five when she began asking direct questions.
“Did Grandma push Mommy because Mommy was bad?”
“No.”
“Because Mommy yell?”
“They were arguing. Grandma made a dangerous choice.”
“Did Mommy die right away?”
I looked at Mara.
She nodded slightly.
“No. Mommy was hurt very badly.”
“Could Grandma help?”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“Not soon enough.”
Sophia stared.
“Why?”
“She was afraid of getting in trouble.”
That was age-appropriate enough.
Sophia frowned.
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
Children sometimes need simpler moral language than courts.
Then:
“Did Grandma love Mommy?”
“I don’t know.”
I could have said yes in her own way.
I stopped myself.
Love is not useful when discussing whether conduct was safe.
“Grandma treated Mommy wrongly.”
Better.
Sophia’s memories came in fragments.
Blue folder.
Mommy shouting.
Grandma’s pearls.
A loud sound.
Then Victoria telling her:
“You dreamed it.”
That sentence became especially important.
Victoria had not only told Sophia not to speak.
She taught her to doubt memory.
Therapy focused on:
You can be unsure.
You can remember parts.
Adults can help determine what happened.
You do not have to prove anything alone.
Sophia began sleeping with the bedroom door open.
Then closed.
May you like
Then open again.
No linear healing.
