We like to think he not only taught us all how to live, but how to die as well. And now there are moments when the loss hits full force, especially when I hear certain songs that he used to sing. He sang at church for my entire life, so it’s usually in church that it hits me…especially because he designed the church! I see him in my son, and that glimpse of the man inside the boy reminds me of how we’re all connected, and that my 5 year old is a little man inside a boy’s body, and that I have the honor and responsibility to help shape that man (so don’t mess up!)

At any rate, after my dad died, a friend passed along a book call Final Gifts, written by two hospice nurses about their experiences in helping dying people. It was helpful even after dad’s death, but would most benefit someone who is facing the death of a loved one so that they can help that person on the journey. Highly recommended.

Another book I love is the children’s book Grandads Prayers of the Earth about a young boy who loses his grandpa. Probably because it reminds me of my dad. Beautifully illustrated and thoughtfully written…another good read.

Peace.

For years I have read My Glamorous Life posts because Zeldman’s writing is so moving. He helped me process my feelings about 9/11 with his gut-wrenching posts after the event. His musings on being a parent are poignant and insightful. This section of his blog is not even meant to be technology-related. What are you thinking?

I’ve had a couple of experiences with death, the first three (two grandfathers and one neighbor who was like a grandfather) were sad, no doubt. But they were sick and I could almost tell they weren’t going to live much longer.

The most recent death, however, involved an old friend of my brother and I. We didn’t hang out much at the time of his death; not because of any falling out, but just different interests and responsibilities as we grew up. It was sudden and he was young, so that was a lot different for us.

Back to the first three deaths, the little ones in the family have coped with these losses. They don’t remember that much of our friend. Not in a false hope sort of way, but in a truthful hope.

In reply to the earlier comments, calling the desire to no die “selfish” is inaccurate. No one is truly meant to die. Life was really meant to be lived forever.

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.1 Thess. 4:13-14

That’s what we and the little ones go by. Of course, we don’t get all finicky about “who’s where”. That’s not our job. :)

For months afterward there had been no mention of great-grandpa. Almost a year after his death, my grandson asked one day if great-grandpa was still sick. The answer was that great-grandpa was in heaven, but the response was “but is he still sick?” When told that people in heaven are not sick, his response was simply “Ok” and that was the end of that.

I can only imagine the long term effects that this will have on the rest of his life.

I went through the same thing with my great-grandma. Grandma Henry was was supposedly blind she always made me walk her to the dining table and to the bathroom. I was four. One Christmas she was looking intently at the tree and said to my grandfather, “Elmer, you have a green bulb out on the tree”. At four years old she taught me compassion. I sat whit her while she passed. She squeezed my hand, smiled, and shut her eyes.

I guess the best thing we can do while we are here is to be good to each other. To have compassion and empathy. We will never quite understand gravity but those qualities make it easier to deal with.

Peace to you and your family, Jeffrey.

When he was about 5 we inevitably visited a graveyard in the UK. Put in the spot, I explained that the graves were the remains of people who had lived a long time ago, way before there were cars or trains or air planes and people had to walk everywhere they went.

My son then asked me, “was it all the walking that killed them?” Somehow, my weakness and his strength of understanding was reassuring.

She thought for a moment, then asked “Who killed him?”

Because of course everyone must have an evil nemesis…