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Little Squirrel knew something had changed. Someone he loved had died, and no one seemed to have all the answers.
Down at the garden birdbath, he notices a mosaic — a picture made of rainbow-coloured stones — with one stone missing. He finds a grey stone that doesn't quite match and fits it into the gap anyway. Not perfectly. But good enough.
Written by clinical psychologist Lynne Woolfson and drawing on ideas from Donald Winnicott's "transitional objects" and the Japanese art of kintsugi, The Little Grey Stone offers children — and the adults who love them — a quiet, honest way to sit with grief. It doesn't promise easy answers. It offers something better: proof that love stays, even when someone is gone, and that healing doesn't mean going back to how things were.
Little Squirrel knew something had changed. Someone he loved had died, and no one seemed to have all the answers.
Down at the garden birdbath, he notices a mosaic — a picture made of rainbow-coloured stones — with one stone missing. He finds a grey stone that doesn't quite match and fits it into the gap anyway. Not perfectly. But good enough.
Written by clinical psychologist Lynne Woolfson and drawing on ideas from Donald Winnicott's "transitional objects" and the Japanese art of kintsugi, The Little Grey Stone offers children — and the adults who love them — a quiet, honest way to sit with grief. It doesn't promise easy answers. It offers something better: proof that love stays, even when someone is gone, and that healing doesn't mean going back to how things were.