Listen To The Children

I had to explain death to my children before I believed they were old enough to comprehend it.

At the time I told them that the part that loved and laughed and played with them had gone to heaven to be with God and all that was left was an empty body, kind of like the shells they found on the beach. They accepted this so well I was almost shocked.

Then they asked why I was crying. Desperately searching for an answer that would be appropriate for children when I was nearly lost in grief myself, I finally said, “because I will miss her.” They accepted that too.

Children are amazing. I still have a little poem mine wrote and its simplicity is so beautiful. It was years before I could let go, but they were out playing the next week. It was obvious they missed her too, yet they were willing and wanting to talk about her and how they missed her, while life went on.

And life does move on, no matter how unimaginable it seems at first. Eventually the scent on the clothing fades away and the sound of laughter becomes harder to remember, but the important things are always going to be here. It’s not necessary to have place markers to prove it, but it’s okay too. Sometimes a cherished ribbon, or tiny curl brings inexpressible comfort.

It isn’t easy, but I can tell you that the children playing in the backyard, right now, have what you need.