Work Text:
After Charlie died, Connie watched her grandkids grieve their grandfather in their own ways—Missy cried, Georgie acted out—but five-year-old Sheldon clung to her.
He followed her room to room, wide-eyed and silent, refusing to let go of her hand.
At first, she thought it was odd.
Then she understood.
One afternoon, she pulled him close, brushing his soft hair back. “Moonpie,” she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here, and I love you.”
His fingers gripped tighter, a shuddered breath escaping him.
He didn’t say a word, but Connie felt it—the fear ease, just a little.