Au Revoir, Mr. Bear

This is the last picture taken with Mr. Bear.
He went missing at the Oakland airport as we loaded our luggage into the car after our flight home from Kauai.
As soon as Zoe asked about him, we pulled the car over. Took everything out of the trunk. Drove back to the airport- at 10 Pm on a Monday night. We bolted into the airport, asking, looking, scanning, running- my heart was racing as I looked into trash cans, behind desks, desperately pleading with everyone, "have you seen a little brown teddy bear?" My eyes welling up with tears. As if he were MY bear, and I was the 3 year old girl with a hole in her heart! Who would take a little girl's bear? A beat up, worn out, dirty brown, scraggly, slobbered-on teddy bear of no use to anyone but the girl who loved him more than anything?
The security guard knew who. He saw an elderly Mexican couple pick him up off the floor (probably as we were only a few feet away, walking out the door). Marcia saw them in passing. Noticed them because it looked as if they were being deported, escorted by a translator and helped by the security guard who didn't think anything of the bear until we asked.
I ran to Mexicana, asked everyone waiting, "have you seen a child's bear?". But they were gone. And so is Bear.
I hated going back to the car empty handed. Zoe took one look at me and burst into tears. Tears of loss. Her first heartbreak. All I could do was hug her, and say, "I'm so sorry. I know."
It's like loosing a pet. I know, it sounds silly. He was stuffed (badly stuffed at that). He was due for a collagen injection. I was going to buy some pillow stuffing at Michael's to plump him up a bit. He had just had a spa day and smelled April Fresh.
But even though he never said a word, he was always there. His presence was felt- it felt warm and homey. Comforting. Supportive. Understanding. When Zoe was sick, he was always there. When she was sad, he soaked up the tears. When her nose was runny, he was her Kleenex. When she was hurting, he was hugged and held. When she ran he followed, when she experienced something new or exciting, he did too. He shared all of our experiences. Mr. Bear was never far from her thoughts, and therefore, never far from mine. I felt his gravity too. If my kids came first, it meant Mr. Bear was right behind.
So as I searched desperately in the airport, asking strangers, my eyes welling with tears, they must've thought I was crazy. But they didn't have to face Zoe waiting in the car, alone.
On the way home, I felt silly tearing up over Zoe's old bear. And then Marcia said this, "When Alex was a baby, he had a stuffed puppy. That puppy went everywhere. He was raggedy and worn, but Alex loved him and carried him all the time. Of course Alex grew up and moved on from puppy. And now puppy is in my cedar chest and whenever I see him, I think of Alex as a sweet little boy, holding that puppy. And you should have Mr. Bear in your cedar chest".
Just a teddy bear. Full of stuffing. Stuffed with memories and comfort.