Cracked

Sitting in a restaurant booth with my granddaughter, waiting for her pasta. She's three years old. As she kneels on the seat, she turns to me and strokes my face with her delicate fingers. Tracing a line from my hairline to my chin, she hesitates and rubs her finger gently around my eye. Now she studies my face.
"Grandma, why is your face cracked?"
I smile because I have noticed those pesky crow's feet around my eyes have been growing from a size 5 to a 7 lately. Should I tell her the truth? This has been a helluva year. I have shed tears every day, sometimes a torrent, but usually just a trickle which involuntarily starts before I'm aware of its descent down my cheek or the side of my nose. Grief has a way of sneaking up on you after a while. The initial onslaught dissipates and the remaining emotions are an odd mix of sadness, reminisces and emptiness.  It takes its sorry toll on the mind and body as it meanders through your very being.
Should I tell her how your heart cracks, too? Those cracks don't really heal completely. In a way they open the heart a little more. What you choose to fill it with is optional. At first it's too painful to touch. You have to leave it for a while to harden just a bit. If you leave it too long it can become hard and brittle. Then you run the risk of a shattered heart, which can be repaired, but usually has a missing piece or two.
Should I tell her how your soul cracks? A part of it seems to have flown away into the mysterious place it originated, but it left a gap, an emptiness that echoes, mostly at night.
Should I tell her how your mind cracks? Yeah, the expression "cracking up" hits home. Many things that made perfect sense before lose their meaning. Your priorities start shifting. Things seem less important. Your train of thought becomes The Disoriented Express.
She's three years old. She has plenty of time to find these things out for herself. I hope I'll be there for her when that time comes. She has no idea how much she has been there for me. So, what do I tell her?
"Well, when you live for a long time you get to love a lot of people and a lot of people love you. The more people you love, the more you fill yourself up with that love and after a while there's just so much love it starts to shine out of little cracks in your face. They don't hurt at all, in fact they feel good because they remind you of all the love you've given and  received since you were a baby."
"Grandma, you're silly. I love your hair."
"I love your hair, too, Natalie."