At Dinner
Sometimes my daughter really takes me by surprise. At dinner tonight she came out with this one:
“Killian’s your son. I’m your moon.”
I think I have a new nickname for her now. She also paralyzed me with this one:
“Mommy, where’s your mommy?”
I mean, PARALYZED ME. She asked it again, and I turned to Joshua, my brain racing, and said to him, “I don’t know how to answer that.”
He just looked back at me, his face suddenly apologetic, and didn’t have words. We both looked at her inquisitive little face and trying to think of something that she would understand, I said, “My mommy’s in Heaven with Jesus.”
“Oh, with Jesus,” she repeated. This was something she could understand, at least partially. She knows how to sing Jesus Loves Me and Jesus Loves The Little Children, so she’s kind of got a handle on this Jesus guy. I don’t think she had much of a handle on Heaven, however. For all she knows, Heaven is in the East Bay. I can guarantee you, it’s not.
Small talk like this ensued, and she asked me again where my mommy was. I leaned forward, and as gently as I could muster, which I’m afraid wasn’t as gentle as I would have liked it to have been, I said, “My mommy died. And now she’s in Heaven with Jesus. She’s not here with us anymore.”
You should have seen her face when I told her my mommy died. I think death is a concept that she does understand, however little. She has, after all, already been to three funerals. Her face fell slightly, and she looked sad. I wanted to use a gentler word, but I don’t think “passed away” is going to make sense to her. And I think to say someone died is okay. Things like “she’s not coming back” makes it sound like she abandoned us or left or is otherwise choosing not to be a part of our lives, and I don’t want to confuse her with that.
After I told her she died, I told her again that my mommy was in Heaven with Jesus. She said, “In Jesus?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed.
“Where’s Jesus’s house?”
“It’s in Heaven. That’s where my mommy lives now.”
“Oh.” The light bulb was beginning to click on now. “Your mommy lives in Jesus’s house in Heaven?”
“Yes.”
“Heaven’s in circles and circles?” She said this holding her little arm up and making circles over her plate of chicken spaghetti and corn casserole, how appropriate.
“That sounds about right, Judah.” That’s as good of a definition as to the location of Heaven as I could probably explain, anyway.
“Oh.”
And that was that. At least that’s over. For now.
September 23rd, 2006 at 7:16 pm
this is the best post!
“i’m your moon.”
that is so sweet.
im so excited about our boys moving us this way.
children are so amazing.
September 23rd, 2006 at 7:21 pm
Oh, how our children can bring every bit of emotions and life out of us. I remember telling Mikah about heaven when he was three, and after that for almost a whole year he begged to go to heaven. BEGGED. He said he wanted to be where Jesu was where he could see Him. I thank God for the understanding all of our children have of Him, they don’t fear as we do, they understand more than we do. I pray our children will never stop being our teachers. Love you guys.
September 23rd, 2006 at 7:27 pm
Please come home. I need to be with you and your family.
September 24th, 2006 at 11:06 am
Careful with the East Bay comments… C-A-R-E-F-U-L. As soon as we’re back in The City, you can proceed with them again. As for the “Where’s Your Mommy” comment, it seems that since Killian was just born, you could tie it into a simple, age-appropriate “Lion King-ish” cycle/circle of life discussion. Sure makes it easier for me (at 35) to see things that way, so maybe it would help her, too.
September 24th, 2006 at 11:17 am
Jill,
Yeah, I thought about you when I wrote that. If this conversation had taken place while we still lived in Dallas, I probably would have used Collin County. It’s nothing personal.
Does this mean you guys are moving back into The City???
September 24th, 2006 at 2:26 pm
Yes, we’re moving back to the city (that’s always been the plan)… Unfortunately, we don’t have a timeline! Could be one year, could be five!
September 24th, 2006 at 7:51 pm
I read your post tonight and my tears just won’t stop. I am amazed by the innocence of children and how at times their simple words can deliver such a deep message.
Thank you for accepting my love as graciously as you do, and for calling me mom. I wear that badge of honor with humility and pride.
September 25th, 2006 at 5:59 am
You explained your mom’s absence in terms easy for Judah to understand. I experienced the same with my older two daughters when our third daughter died before she was born. They still correct me when someone asks how many children I have. I say, “Three.” One of my daughters will correct me, saying, “No, Mommy. You forgot baby Emmie in heaven with Jesus! You have FOUR kids!”
Amazing how connected to our hearts our children can be!
Well said.
October 5th, 2006 at 1:22 pm
Yeah Judah!
October 25th, 2006 at 6:57 pm
i love you and your kids. i PRAY for the right words when i have to face that conversation. i didn’t realize how much i missed you guys until i saw you tonight.