Heaven?

I recently met up with a friend of mine for a play date. Her son is 5 and her daughter is almost 2. The kids had a wonderful time. My kiddos adored having a big kid to watch and imitate and he’s such a good boy that I had no concerns when imitate him they did. The entire time.  It was hilarious, actually. Watching two 3.5 year olds trying to do something a 5 year old is doing… very clumsily and with tremendous giggling. It’s enough to make you know that everything is ok in the world.

During the play date, sat in the middle of the sandbox, the 5 year old looked up and me and asked me, “Do your kids have a daddy?”

Let me fill in the background…

My friend’s friend lost her husband recently and this 5 year old knew about it. He knew that a child, approximately his age, had said goodbye to his daddy. And while he wasn’t showing any significant overt signs of distress (my friend’s son, that is), he was clearly processing it and trying to figure it all out. Hardly shocking, if you ask me.

Me: “Yes, They have a daddy.”

My friend (to her son):  “Honey, why are you asking?”

Kid: “Because I’ve never seen him. “

Ahhh… it’s all starting to make sense. The concrete thinking of a child. I explained that he had, in fact, met their daddy. It’s just that it was a long time ago and I would have been very surprised if he remembered. Basically, my friend and I tend to get together when the dads are at work, during the week.

But still, his face rested in that uncomfortable place. And for this kid, the uncomfortable place is not common. He’s a happy kid, relaxed, content. His face’s standard resting place is one of comfort, not discomfort. Clearly, his question had not been answered. So I asked him. “Do you want to see a picture of their daddy?”

His whole face lit up. Excellent. That was the missing piece of the conversation.  I took out my phone and showed him a picture. He glanced at it for maybe a second and then went back to playing.  Then a moment later…

“Mr. David is in heaven”. 

And here we are. At the center of the real issue.

“Yes honey. I know.” We looked at each other, smiled. Locked eyes.  And then we moved on.

And I made a decision at that very moment, despite not being a religious person. The first time my kids have to endure losing someone they love, I am going to teach them about Heaven. It might be hypocritical, especially given my lack of decisive belief in god. But, for me, that’s not the point.

When my kids lose someone they love, I don’t want them to feel lost or more confused than they need to be. I don’t want them to feel as if that person is lost. And really, how would a kid comprehend the atheist belief that a person just dies. Goes away. To nowhere. All done.  It wouldn’t make sense in their young, concrete little minds.

When my kids lose someone they love, I want them to picture that person encased in happiness. Maybe eating their favorite food or listening to their favorite music. Wearing their favorite shirt or hat. Enjoying a sunny day. You know.... Content. AT PEACE.

Wouldn’t it be nice if that were really the case? If the ones we have loved and lost are really just free of worries in their favorite place?

Perhaps they are…