On Dying and Heaven

I sit at the dinner table across from my four year old son.  My husband sits on one side of me and my 9 month old son on the other.  My oldest child, my Sunshine, chats away.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Then he asks, "When are we going to die?"  He continues, "I'm ready to go to Heaven."

Again, nothing unexpected, at least not too much.  I don't know how I feel about these conversations that occur regularly.  I find it sad that my child talks about Heaven and dying as if it is normal, like there is nothing uncommon about death.  It seems so ordinary to him.  I want him to feel comfortable talking about it, as it is an inevitable part of life on earth, and I don't want him to be uncomfortable, but....  (sigh)  I guess it's just a reminder of how things didn't turn out the way they should have, the way I wish they would have.  I'm sad that he has a reason to be so familiar with such a mature topic.  I'm heartbroken that he has spent more than half his little life discussing heaven and death.  I'm devastated that his very first funeral was for his sister.  And it always makes me catch my breath when he speaks of going to Heaven or dying himself.  It is so difficult for me to even hear him say the words aloud, much less actually consider the chance of losing another of my children.  On the other hand, I am glad that he is not scared or uneasy about a topic that makes so many adults cringe, halt conversations, and run the other direction.  And I welcome the opportunity to share our beliefs with him.  I hope that he continues to feel comfortable asking questions and talking.  And I pray God gives me the right words to reassure him and to lead him.

My husband replies that hopefully we won't be going to heaven for a long time still.

"When the sun comes up?"

I hope much, much longer than that, I tell him.  I don't want to worry him, but it is important to me that I am honest with him, even when I don't have the answers.  "I don't know exactly when; God decides that," I remind him.  I add that I get to go first, though.

I always say that I get to go first, nothing unusual.  Suddenly, though, the conversation takes a new turn - it leaps out of ordinary; I am taken aback.  My sweet Sunshine, normally quick to answer, "okay," pauses to consider my words and seems to realize for the first time what it means if I go to Heaven first.  His beautiful face wrinkles and twists in concern.  His eyes squeeze narrow and become misty, "But I would be lonely without you."

My heart breaks again...so many times it has shattered for him, for Elena, for all of us.  I walk around the table to cradle him in my arms.  He decides we should all go to Heaven together, at the same time.  I don't verbalize it to him, but I yearn for him to outlive me, and not by mere moments but by many years.  He just has to, as I cannot bear any other thought.  To him, we suggest that he will likely change his mind when he has his own family that he will want to watch grow.  He considers that idea and seems satisfied for a fleeting moment.  Then he reconsiders and repeats, "But I will be lonely," tears forming in his eyes.  Oh, my sweet baby, my darling love, I will be there, waiting for you, and Elena will wait for you, and we will be so excited to see you when it is your turn but not until then.  And let's try not to worry about it just yet.  It is probably a long, long time away.  A moment or two later the conversation turns to toys and games and other such fun that most people would expect for a family dinner with preschoolers.  And life goes on...for those of us who haven't reached Heaven yet.