The Simple Naked Truth

We're on our way home from church on Sunday night (Easter). Just me and the Oldest. My husband was sick at home and because his sister, mom, and nephew were here, he kept the Littlest at home while we went to Church.

We talked about God, his upcoming First Communion, and of all things, ultimately Lucas. He had questions about where God is and where God came from. Well, wouldn't I like to know....those are tough questions we as parents do the best we can with..and I did. I also told him why I think it's important and hard to always have your faith in God, even when things are hard. So he says, "Like when Lucas died?" and there we went right straight down that path and there I went, moving the rearview mirror so he could not see my face. We chatted about things he could not remember (more moving of the mirror) and then he softly, kindly, and somewhat simply said, "Well what would be the point in God letting Lucas live if he was so sick when he could just as easily be in Heaven where he wouldn't hurt anymore?"........................................Well. What WOULD be the point in that reader? I surely don't know. And that is the simple innocence of youth. The intelligence of a child. Doesn't it speak volumes? How easy it all sounds. So I quietly nodded, it was all I could do. I nodded confidently and distinctly so he could see I was saying yes without having to utter a word. Too busy holding my breath so not to let him hear me cry..
When did it happen? When did he become this astute little guy at the age of only 8.5? It's been there all along. He is smart, lots of kids are. With him comes emotional knowledge. And as proven by him in that car ride, he has forgotten the details, thank goodness one side of me says and the other side is very sad to learn that. Silly to admit it, but it's so true. I want him to not know the details, why should a child remember losing their brother in detail? He knows it happened; done. But there is a fear in me that he will just plain forget. It's the same fear that literally plagues me about myself and others around me. I'm subconciously on a quiet mission that no one forget Lucas. I know they can't, they wouldn't, I know that. But I'm afraid of it still.

The simple naked truth from my oldest child. It's been glaring me in the face for a long time now. To hear him say it in one sentence just like that, well, it brought tears. Of course, he was too sick to live. It was destined to be that way. Ironically, in church this past Sunday, in the middle of a prayer after accepting the Eucharist, I said to God, "do you remember how I begged you for his life? do you remember how loudly I screamed at you? do you remember I prayed so hard, I sobbed with sweat on my forehead? I remember. It's ok." and always the tears; then and now. Always. For a miriad of reasons but yes, always the tears.