"Why are you so cute?" a stranger asks Madelynn at the grocery store.
"Cuz I look like my dad," she answers without second thought.
"I'm funny like my dad," Jordan volunteers. "My daddy used to play Raging Bulls with me. I was the bull and had to run under the blanket."
They crave to know as much as they can about their father. They never tire of stories or memories. I find myself wishing I had more. I want to fill them up with as much as I can.
"Am I going to be the second one in our family to die, Mom?" Jordan asks me when we get home.
His question stops me without warning, forcing me to answer without preparation.
"Only God knows when it's time for us to go to heaven," I tell my son, hoping I'm saying the right thing. "Right now God wants you to enjoy earth and being a boy…playing and learning."
And in my mind I think, No, God…no! He cannot be the second one. I know I have no choice in such matters, but please…no. Then I start wiping the table repeatedly in the same circle, I have to escape these unthinkable thoughts.
It's hard to make sense of the world and life and death, especially in the middle of an ordinary day while putting away groceries, making supper, reminding my kids to brush their teeth.
My day ends with a thank you. Thank you for one more day together. This is my daily prayer.
