Updated: November 19, 2020
Originally Published: July 9, 2009
As I cuddle in bed with my three youngest children, we explore the iPad together. Their father is currently on a flight from Northern Virginia to California, visiting his brother. As a teacher, he rarely travels for work, making his four-night absence feel significant. I open a map of the United States, revealing the distance he must travel. My children marvel at the fact that it takes five hours by plane or nearly 39 hours of non-stop driving to reach their destination.
Next, I pull up a world map to show them just how small the United States is in relation to the rest of the globe. Although we’ve looked at maps before, their excitement feels fresh and new. I point out London, where their Uncle resides.
“Wow, that’s really far,” my 8-year-old son, Jake, exclaims.
Then my nearly six-year-old daughter, Lily, asks, “Where is Grandpa on here?”
My heart sinks, and I take a deep breath. It has been four months and 14 days since we last said goodbye to Grandpa.
“Grandpa is in heaven,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. I sense the inevitable question coming, yet I am caught off guard. I believed we had covered this ground. I had read them age-appropriate books, wept together, shared photos, and included them in memorial services. I thought they understood. But how can a child grasp a concept that even adults find challenging?
“I mean, where is heaven on the map?” she persists.
Interestingly, Jake, who typically has a quick answer, remains silent. He too is curious about where their Grandpa might be right now.
“Well, sweet pea, heaven isn’t a place you can pin on a map,” I explain gently. “No one truly knows what it’s like. Many believe it’s a beautiful realm where spirits live on, and you’re reunited with your loved ones.”
They both nod, taking in my words, and I can see they are contemplating the gravity of the subject. Just then, my three-year-old, Mia, jumps onto the iPad, demanding to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I can’t help but feel grateful for the distraction.
The conversation quickly shifts, and I allow them ten more minutes of playtime before bed. They scurry off to their rooms, while I linger, staring at the map. If only there were an app that could show us where our loved ones are—one that could help explain the complexities of saying goodbye and navigating the emptiness that remains.
I often forget that my children are also mourning the loss of someone they adored. Parenting while grieving is a profound challenge. Sometimes, it’s easier for me to pretend they’ve moved on, which might explain my reluctance to talk about Grandpa lately. I was taken aback that instead of asking about Disney World, they wanted to know where to find heaven. I handled their inquiry as best as possible; however, deep down, I wished I could find heaven on the map. I yearn to see for myself, even for a fleeting moment, that my loved ones are at peace and waiting for us.
If I were a more skilled writer, I might draft a guide such as “Five Ways to Support Your Children After Losing a Grandparent” or “Navigating Parenting After a Loss.” Yet, here I am, feeling lost. I don’t have all the answers, and I suspect no one truly does. We all just do our best, navigating the complexities of parenting.
Moving forward, I will strive to acknowledge my children’s emotions and keep Grandpa’s memory alive. I will hold onto the belief that while I may not pinpoint heaven on a map, we will eventually be reunited. This commitment is for them and for myself.
For additional support on family journeys, consider checking out this guide on fertility resources to help you navigate your own path.