Run 4 Everett

Sunday, March 27, 2011

"That" Conversation

Last night, as I was putting our 3 year old to bed, she decided she wanted to talk about her baby brother. Lilli does this from time to time and it almost always seems to be at bedtime. I want to make sure she feels like she can talk about him and ask questions and have me answer as honestly as I can to a three year old child. She always starts off with, "mommy, remember when you were in the hospital and were really sad, and I came to see you and gave you a hug"? And I always responds with, "yes, I remember". Then she proceeds to ask why everyone was so sad and I tell her it's because we wanted her baby brother here with us so badly and he didn't get to stay. That he now lives in Heaven with God and Jesus. She usually follows with, "I wish I could go visit him in the hospital and hold him again. I liked holding him, when he was sleeping." Then I gently remind her that he is not in the hospital and that he died and lives in Heaven. That conversation has typically been enough to satisfy her.

Last night though was the first time she really started probing me about why Everett was there, what Heaven is, where it is and who is there. We have books, and I've read them several times to her that describe in a kid friendly way what Heaven is and what it might look like and who is there. I tried to explain in the best possible way to her why Everett was in there. I found myself trying to explain what an umbilical cord was, explaining about how all babies have them and she had one too, pointing to her belly button. That Everett's cord had an accident inside mommy's belly when he was in there and he died, leaving out all other details of the circumstances that surrounded that. She kept asking, "why". Why did he have to die, why couldn't she hold him again, or see him. All I could tell her was; I don't know why. She will know all the details when she is old enough, far into the future when she can comprehend what all happened.

I surprisingly managed to make it though that conversation without tearing up, which usually doesn't happen. Then came the trigger point. She told me she wanted to go to Heaven to see Everett, to hold him, to play with him and I told her she couldn't do that. She asked why, and rightly so. I told her that Everett was a very special Angel and only when you die do you get to go to Heaven. I told her that you only die once, and when you do, it's forever. I told her he didn't need a house, or a car, or anything like that where he was, that he had everything he needed, that he is loved and taken care of, that it was a beautiful place, and some day, a very long, long time from now, when she dies she will get to see Everett again and hold him and play with him. I know all this because I feel it in my heart. She then looked up at me in the dark with her big blue eyes and sadly told me, I'm not an Angel anymore. Kind of like she knew maybe she used to be, but not at this time. I told her not to worry, and promised her that when it was time she would most certainly be an Angel again. But she had lots of growing up to do and a life of her own to live and enjoy before that happened. She felt better hearing that and was finally ready to go to sleep. I love her and her incredibly beautiful soul so much. I love her brother too, and together (with her daddy) we miss him from our lives every day.


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