Last year, on the day that my mom died, Carrie and I ended up back at my sister’s house for the night, and my nephew Stone, who was four at the time, had some serious questions about his grandmother.
“Where IS Grandma Marti?” he wanted to know.
Yikes! In that moment he might as well have asked me where babies come from! I wasn’t sure what to say - what my sister would want me to say - and before I could think too long I blurted out, “She’s in heaven.”
“Where is heaven?” he persisted, and I pointed up toward the ceiling.
Stone looked confused. “Up on da woof?” he asked.
Oh my sweetness. “No, Stoney,” I told him. “Heaven is way way up in the sky.”
“Up past the planes and helicoptews and wocket ships?” he asked.
“Yes, sweetheart, way up high.” He looked sad but satisfied with my answers.
Recently, as he sat under the stars with his mother he looked skyward and said, “Hi Grandma. You look beautiful tonight.”
My sister asked, “Do you remember what Grandma looks like?”
Stone was quick to reply, “Blonde hair, black shirt, black pants, white shoes, peach arms…”
My sister texted me to tell me about their recent conversation and before I could text her back she said what I was thinking, “Mom would never wear white shoes with black pants!”
Gosh, we miss her something terrible, but these little conversations, the little ways we remember her, are just so precious. I love the sweet and innocent way that Stone remembers his grandmother. She would love to know that he sees her in the stars...
...way up past the planes and helicoptews and wocket ships.