Last night, I complained a bit on here about Amelia calling out in-store farters and women who look like Mickey Rourke. While I stand behind my discomfort with her lack of volume control, I now consider myself very lucky to avoid the questions I heard a father get asked tonight. As Meggan and I were doing a little Christmas shopping, I overheard a tiny voice (probably no older than 4) and her dad have the following conversation...
Girl: When big kids grow up, how do they know their mommy and daddy go to Heaven?
Dad: You just have to believe, honey.
Girl: Because where they died is where Heaven is?
Dad: No. Heaven is up in the sky.
Girl: Because we don't have to breathe in the sky and we don't breathe when we're died?
Dad: No, Sweetie... Because Heaven is a special place.
At that point, I walked away appreciative for the fact I have not had to cross that bridge yet. I'm sure at some point all parents are forced to answer this type of question. I wasn't much older than that little girl when my dad died, so I'm sure my mom had to go through it. I guess all we can do is hope when the time comes to discuss illness, pain, or even death, we are somehow able to find the right words. I truly commend that dad tonight. I know if I were in his shoes, I probably would have knocked over a display or claimed I just saw Dora walk past in hopes Amelia would have forgotten what she asked.
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