Goodbye Bear Bear

You really couldn’t call it a stuffed animal. The best way to describe it was a teddy bear head attached to a tiny pink poodle skirt.   It didn't even have a body.  But it did have a couple of little arms, one of which had to be resewn because it was mauled by a dog. Its nose was almost chewed off because my granddaughter Rilynne bit it so many times.  But it was her pride and joy - and it had been since the day she was born. I think her first words were “Bear Bear”, and so it had its name. 

They were inseparable.  Anywhere that Rilynne went, Bear Bear had to go. There was no peace in my house unless Bear Bear was in her hand.  On more than one evening, I had to go back to her Mommy’s house to get Bear Bear, or no one would get any sleep.  We even bought an exact duplicate of this animal (appropriately named Spare Bear) to use in case of emergencies, but it would not do. Rilynne always knew the difference.

When she was about 4 years old, I gave Bear Bear a voice, and suddenly he had a personality.    BB was always talking to me about Rilynne, constantly complaining how he didn’t like her biting his nose.  When he told me secrets about Rilynne, she would pester me without mercy until I told her what Bear Bear said.  That was usually followed by a nose bite. 

Once she left him on the bumper of my wife’s car as they left a restaurant.  When we discovered what happened, a roadside search that would make the FBI proud ensued until we found him.

I suppose every child has their own version of an irreplaceable stuffed animal. I had two:  Tony the Tiger and Susie the Cat. Susie was notable because she could shoot beer out of her tail.  And I literally loved the stripes off Tony.  I’ve even written a children’s book about him that I would like to get published.  They both reside in my closet today.

Rilynne has just turned 8 years old, and I fear Bear Bear is on the same career path as Tony and Suzy.  We don’t see him that much anymore. When I ask her where her buddy is, she says, “He’s at home, on my bed, resting.”  Now, she gets upset when she can’t find her iPad. Most of the overnight sleepovers don’t even involve a stuffed animal. Time moves quickly.  I know that soon, much too soon, this 8-year-old will be 10 years old.  Then 12.  Then a teenager.  And Bear Bear will slowly become a fond memory of her childhood. Just the thought of it makes my heart hurt.

I’ve always told her that I want her to stop growing up.  She always says, “But, I have to Granddaddy!”  I know she does, but I don’t have to like it. My little girl won’t be little much longer.  And I don’t like it.  Bear Bear doesn’t either.