Chapter 14 - IVY’S THERAPY FINDS MY PART
Dr. Lena Hart worked with children after sudden humiliating events.
She did not ask Ivy to relive the clipper sound every session.
Sometimes they drew.
Sometimes played.
Sometimes talked about Elara.
Then she invited me alone.
“Does Ivy choose when Elara is discussed at home?”
I paused.
“Not always.”
“How often do you tell stories about her?”
“Frequently.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want Ivy to forget.”
“Whose fear is that?”
Mine.
I hated the question.
Then:
“Does Ivy ever ask you to stop?”
“Once or twice.”
“What did you do?”
“Stopped.”
“Good.”
Then:
“Do you still keep Elara’s closet unchanged?”
I stared.
Our bedroom closet.
Half still held Elara’s clothes.
Nineteen months later.
“Yes.”
“Does that hurt Ivy?”
“No evidence it does.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because Lenora weaponized a real part of your grief. I want you to separate what belongs to you from what belongs to Ivy.”
That was fair.
I began grief counseling again.
Not because Lenora was right.
Because she did not get to make grief treatment wrong by abusing the concept.
I went through Elara’s clothes slowly.
Not all.
Some donated.
Some kept.
Ivy chose none unless she asked.
Her hair stayed hers.
Her memories stayed hers.
May you like
My memories became my responsibility.
That distinction was overdue.
