"I see somebody!" he said.
"Who do you see?" I asked.
He paused, clicking his tongue as he does when he isn't sure he wants to say anything.
Then, he said, "Kay!" Then, "I sang a song about Grandma in my bed last night."
I asked, "How did the song go?"
He replied, "I can only sing the song in my bed, and I'm not it my bed."
Then he said, "You know what you do when you are sad?"
"What do you do?"
"You go like this-" [opened his mouth, looked down and did a little throaty noise]
"Are you sad? Why are you sad?"
Whispering, "Grandma Kay is reaallly sick."
[Of course, with Yuri, the conversation didn't happen as fast as it goes when you read it. There was plenty of shuffling his things under and behind and over the blankets...]
I let the conversation end there - partly because I was crying, but I also wanted him to lead the conversation how he needed to. It felt good to hear Yuri talk about his feelings. It seemed like he was happy, almost happier, after having seen her picture there (it was a picture he was in). He played so well the rest of the morning. Grandpa came over soon after and we had quite the enjoyable musical (mostly vocal) concert as Yuri "composed" several songs for us, directing us with a baton or free-hand (like the Russian conductors), sometimes asking us to sing along and sometimes performing solo.
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