The Rainbow Rose

The Rainbow Rose

by

Patches the Story Dog

Patches the Story Dog

A story about Death

for your Kindergartener

Kindergartener Death

Make this story your own!

Remix Story
Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, sits at a large wooden kitchen table covered in colorful crayons, happily drawing on a big sheet of paper with a wide smile on her face. In the background, sunny yellow walls with colorful drawings taped to them and a white fridge covered in artwork.

Ava loved to draw. Every day, she sat at the big wooden kitchen table with her crayons spread all around. She drew cats and trees and rainbows. She drew flowers and stars and silly faces. Drawing made Ava's heart feel warm and bright.

A pair of wrinkled, gentle hands and a pair of small child hands both holding crayons, drawing colorful flowers and suns together on a large sheet of white paper spread across a big wooden kitchen table. In the background, scattered crayons in every color across the wooden table surface.

Ava's favorite person to draw with was her grandma. Grandma would sit right next to her at the big wooden table. "What shall we draw today?" Grandma would ask. "Everything!" Ava would say. And they would laugh and draw together until the paper was full of colors.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, kneels in soft garden soil, patting dirt around a small pink flower with her little hands, her face full of concentration and joy. In the background, a gentle garden blooming with colorful flowers beneath a sunny sky.

Grandma taught Ava so many things. They planted flowers together in the garden outside the window. They baked warm cookies that made the whole house smell sweet. "Remember, Ava," Grandma would say, "when you put love into something, it grows." Ava always remembered that.

A large, empty wooden chair pulled up to the big wooden kitchen table, with a single red crayon resting on the seat, and soft light falling across it from a nearby window. In the background, the sunny yellow walls look dim and quiet, with drawings still taped to the fridge.

But one day, something changed. Ava's mom sat down with her and held her hands. "Ava, I need to tell you something," Mom said softly. "Grandma was very sick, and her body stopped working. Grandma has died. That means she will not come back." Ava did not understand. She looked at the empty chair where Grandma used to sit.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, hunches over the big wooden kitchen table, pressing a gray crayon hard against paper covered in messy, tangled gray scribbles, her expression sad and lost. In the background, sunny yellow walls with cheerful old drawings taped up, contrasting with her gray scribbles.

Ava felt a heavy feeling in her chest. It was sadness. She tried to draw, but the colors did not look right. She scribbled gray lines across the paper. Scribble, scribble, scribble. Her heart hurt, and her drawings looked the way she felt—dark and tangled and confused.

A small child-sized lump curled under a soft blue blanket on a couch, with only a few tufts of hair peeking out from the top, and a pair of small shoes on the floor below. In the background, the big wooden kitchen table with scattered crayons and crumpled gray-scribbled papers visible across the room.

Ava pushed the crayons away. "I do not want to draw anymore," she said. She climbed onto the couch and pulled a blanket over her head. She did not want to talk. She did not want to play. She just wanted Grandma to come back.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks, is nestled against her mother's chest, her small hands gripping her mom's shirt, her face scrunched with emotion. In the background, soft light from the window falling gently across the couch and the blue blanket draped beside them.

Mom came and sat beside Ava. She gently pulled back the blanket. "It is okay to cry, Ava," Mom said. "When we lose someone we love, it is normal to feel sad. You do not have to hold it inside." Ava's eyes filled with tears, and she cried and cried. Mom held her close and let her cry for as long as she needed.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, sits on the couch with her face still tearful but calmer, looking up while she talks, her small hands gesturing as if describing something she remembers. In the background, through the window, the gentle garden blooming with colorful flowers that Grandma once planted.

After a while, Ava wiped her eyes. "Mom, I miss Grandma," she whispered. "I miss her too," Mom said. "Can you tell me your favorite thing about Grandma?" Ava thought for a moment. "I liked when we planted flowers. And when we baked cookies. And when she drew with me." Talking about Grandma made Ava feel a little better, like opening a window to let fresh air in.

A child's drawing on white paper showing a green-stemmed flower with a pink center and a brown tray of round golden cookies, with a green crayon and a brown crayon lying beside the paper on the big wooden kitchen table. In the background, the sunny yellow walls looking warmer again, with older drawings taped to the fridge.

"Would you like to draw those memories?" Mom asked. Ava looked at the big wooden table. She climbed down from the couch and picked up a green crayon. Slowly, she drew a little flower with a pink center—just like the ones she and Grandma had planted. Then she picked up a brown crayon and drew a tray of cookies. The colors started coming back.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, leans over the big wooden kitchen table with a big smile returning to her face, surrounded by several colorful drawings of flowers, cookies, and two stick figures holding crayons. In the background, real sunlight streaming through the window, lighting up the sunny yellow walls and the colorful drawings taped everywhere.

Ava drew more and more. She drew Grandma's garden with red and purple and yellow flowers. She drew the big wooden table with two chairs side by side. She drew herself and Grandma holding crayons and laughing. With every picture, Ava felt the love come back—warm and bright, like sunlight through the window.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, stands at the window in pajamas, pressing one small hand against the glass while holding a bright yellow crayon in the other, gazing up at the sky with a peaceful, wondering expression. In the background, a dark night sky filled with soft, glowing stars visible through the window.

That night, Ava looked out the window at the dark sky. It was full of soft, glowing stars. "Mom, do you think Grandma can see my drawings?" she asked. Mom smiled. "I think Grandma's love is all around you—in the flowers she planted, in the cookies you learned to bake, and in every picture you draw." Ava picked up a bright yellow crayon and drew a big, glowing star.

A white fridge door covered in colorful taped-up drawings, with a new bright drawing of a big glowing yellow star placed right in the center, standing out among all the other artwork. In the background, the sunny yellow walls of the cozy kitchen glowing warmly, and through the window, the gentle garden under a soft starlit sky.

Ava taped the bright yellow star drawing right in the middle of the fridge, above all the other pictures. She stepped back and looked at it. Grandma was not at the table anymore. But she was in the flowers outside. She was in the warm smell of cookies. She was in every color Ava picked up. And she was in Ava's heart—where love never, ever goes away.

Browse More Stories

from the Fable Public Library

Kindergartener Death