Telling William Daddy Died

Note: This is a post I have hesitated to write. It is about an extremely personal and painful moment in my life and in the life of my son. I share it, not to appease your curiosity or to elicit an emotional response or gain attention. In the last several weeks I have interacted with several people who have experienced loss and had to explain death to a young child. While I am not an expert on the subject, I have walked that very difficult road. My hope and prayer in sharing our story is that it would be a help to those who will also have to walk that road.  

I had to tell my three-year-old son that his daddy had died. It was one of the most difficult and painful things I have ever had to do. It isn't something you prepare for, study for or gather advice for. Tragedy strikes and it has to be done. Here is how it played out for our family:

Who: I had to decide two things in deciding the "who" of our story. Who would tell William about Barry's death? Who would be in the room when he was told? To be honest, these were easy decisions for me to make. I strongly felt that it was my job to tell William. I am his mother. In losing Barry, I became solely responsible for his life and his raising. This was a defining moment in his life and I would be the one to walk through it with him. I also strongly felt that it was an extremely personal moment that was for us alone. No one else was allowed to be in the house when I told William. (Yes, that means I asked everyone to leave for an hour.) I wanted us to be alone for two reasons. First, William is extremely social and sensitive. I did not want him to be influenced by others' emotions and reactions. Second, I wanted him to have the freedom to say, feel and react in any way he needed to without fearing what everyone else in the room would do.  

When: Barry died in the morning. I hadn't slept in over 72 hours. So after we finished everything at the hospital, I went to my parents' house to take a nap. I knew I would need sleep to be able to think clearly and control my emotions when I told William. I also knew that once I told him, I would need to be available to answer questions and comfort him. I couldn't just tell him and disappear. So I slept first. Then, that evening, we had the conversation.

Where: I told William in our home. I wanted to tell him somewhere safe and somewhere where I could control the situation. I told him in our living room. It is a "neutral" room for him that he doesn't spend a lot of time in. I chose to tell him there because I did not want to attach negative memories to his bedroom - a place we had spent a great deal of time and effort to make a safe and peaceful place for him or his playroom.  

Why: "Why?" seems like a silly thing to explain, but it is actually the most important. I'll explain the process I went through to tell William in the next section, but why I chose to do it the way I did was this: My goal in everything I do in parenting William is to point him to Jesus. So, in telling William that his daddy had died, my goal was to point him to Jesus. Jesus is where he would find comfort. Jesus is where he would find healing. Jesus is where he could take his questions, fear, anger and pain. Jesus was what would give him hope. And in the coming years, when he looks back on this tragedy, I want him to see Jesus. That Jesus loves him and carried him through this.  

How: While it seemed like time stood still, the actual conversation I had with William only took a few minutes. I used his Bible - the same one we read out of every night. We read the story of Jesus' crucifixion. We talked about that fact that Jesus died - his body stopped working. He did not breath, speak, move, hear, see or think any more. This also meant that, once He died, he no longer felt pain any more. Then I told William that his daddy had died too. I explained that, just like Jesus, daddy's body no longer worked any more and that he was gone. We talked about the fact that Jesus died on the cross to take the punishment for our sins. We are sinners. We deserve to die. When we die, we deserve separation from God because God is perfect. But, because God loves us and wants a relationship with us, He sent Jesus to take our punishment for sin by dying on the cross. I told William that his daddy loved and trusted Jesus with his whole heart. (This was something that William knew from other conversations we had had before Barry died.) Because Jesus had died on the cross and because daddy loved and trusted Jesus, when daddy died he went to heaven to be with God. We talked about heaven and that daddy would stay in heaven with God. And I told him that daddy would never come back to earth with us.  

William listened and cried. I think he cried more because I was crying than out of actual grief. Over the next several weeks and months, we would have this conversation or similar ones over and over again. He asked questions and cried a lot. The above conversation was the beginning point of him understanding death.  

There is a lot I don't remember about that day. I'm sure I made a fool of myself throughout the day. But I remember my conversation with William so clearly. I remember that, in the midst of overwhelming grief and pain, the Holy Spirit spoke through me to bring truth and comfort to my son. I didn't know what to say. But God took care of the words for me. He was so generous and so faithful.  

There is not a set way to tell children about death. The important thing is to love, protect and comfort them while pointing them to truth - to Jesus.  

Father, bless these words and the people reading them. Open our eyes to the truth of your gospel. For those experiencing tragedy and loss, hold them close and comfort them. As we walk with our children through grief, give us strength and wisdom to point them to Jesus. Thank you for Jesus and what He did on the cross. I love and trust you. Amen.

Happy Birthday Barry!

Today is my husband's birthday. This year it has been such a bittersweet day. It is a sweet day because it is the day God blessed me and so many others with the life of a man that would show me how to love and chase my Savior with passion and zeal. I love today. I am thankful for today - for the gift of Barry's life. It is also a sweet day because I know that it is, by far, the best birthday he has ever had - in heaven, at the feet of Jesus, where joy is ever increasing. But it is also a bitter day. I miss him. I selfishly wish he were still here. I wish I had more time with him. The pain of what I am missing has brought many tears today.

So, how do you celebrate the birthday of some one who has passed away? It has been very important to me to learn how to grieve and learn how to remember Barry well. He was a precious part of my life. I don't want to ignore special days because they are painful. I refuse to not talk about him because it hurts or might make others uncomfortable. I am passionate about making sure our kids know who there daddy was and celebrate his life. But on days like today, it becomes difficult to take those desires and come up with a "plan" for accomplishing them. I've spent the past month thinking and praying about how to handle today - for myself and the kids. And here is what we ended up doing:

William goes to school on Thursday, so this morning we followed our normal routine. It was helpful to have to get up and get moving. Then, Layla and I ran some errands and met some dear friends for lunch. I am so thankful to have friends who will help me celebrate a hard day. We ate at Freebirds, talked about life and celebrated the many blessing God has given us. After picking William up from school, we went to the grocery store to get two things: flowers and balloons. The flowers were for me - flowers make me happy. Even on the saddest of days, I think it helps to be surrounded by beautiful things. The balloons were for William and Barry. We ordered a dozen royal blue balloons (Barry's favorite color). Then we took our balloons to the park and let them go. We sent our balloons to heaven to daddy for his birthday. As William released his balloons, he started screaming, "Happy Birthday Daddy!" We watched our balloons float to heaven. Then, all on his own, William started blowing kisses into the air. He figured if we could send daddy balloons for his birthday, we could also send him kisses. It was my favorite moment of the day. My family came over tonight to have dinner. We played and ate a great meal. We talked about different things and just enjoyed our time together. Then we had cake. Chocolate cake. My husband loved chocolate cake.  

I'm sure our method of celebrating Barry's birthday will change over the years. As the kids grow older and their understanding of death and heaven deepens, we will do different things to help them understand, cope and celebrate. But we will always celebrate. And I know/hope/trust that each year will become a little less bitter and a little more sweet.  

The house is quiet now. The kids are in bed and everyone else has gone home. To everyone who has called, emailed and prayed today - thank you. Your compassion has been a precious blessing to a hurting heart and I am so thankul for you.  

Here are some pictures from our day:

William getting ready to release his balloons

Letting them go, one at a time...

Bye balloons!  Happy Birthday Daddy!

Layla watching the balloons float away

"Mmmm... cake..."

Happy Birthday Barry! 

Placemats

I love to set the table. I like pretty table linens. I like colorful dishes. I hate paper plates and plastic ware. I think plastic cups are gross. If we get take out or fast food, I unwrap everything and put it on real plates to eat it - even if it's a burger and fires. I'm weird. I'm okay with that.

I have found that there are some benefits to my weird hang-ups. When William started eating solid foods in a highchair, I decided that the highchair tray was boring and needed some visual "help." So I created placemats for William's highchair. The placemats taught him colors, animals and how to spell his name. I created a placemat with pictures of him and his daddy for when my husband was out of town. What I discovered was that the placemats were actually very helpful in teaching William basic concepts and in giving us things to talk about during dinner.  

After Barry died, I realized William needed to talk about Barry, but often didn't know what to say or how to verbalize his feelings. I noticed that if he saw pictures of Barry, he would instantly smile and go into long stories about what was happening in the pictures. So, I created "daddy" placemats for the kids. Each placemat is covered with pictures of Barry and William or Layla. And each placemat has Scripture on it for us to read at each meal to remind us of God's goodness and comfort us when we miss daddy. It's a very simple thing that has been helpful in our grieving process.

If you would like to make your own placemats, here are some tips:

*Construction paper works well for most placemats, but if you are making special placemats that you would like to keep for years, use poster board.  Poster board also works better if you will be gluing photos onto it.

*I take all of my placemats to Mardels for laminating.  It costs 25 cents per foot.  For our "daddy" placemats, I went to Staples to have them laminated instead.  At Staples, they use the thick lamination film so it is much sturdier (aka, more costly at $2 a foot!).

*Always make your placemats 2 sided!  

*I always write a verse from the Bible on each side of my placemats.  It gives me something to read to them at each meal to help us think on Jesus.  

*You can make placemats for highchairs!  Just trace the tray onto a piece of poster board and cut out.  Make sure to make it a few centimeters smaller than the actual tray so that it will fit inside the tray nicely.  

Making Video Memories

In the weeks and months after losing Barry, my three-year-old son William would often talk about his daddy. He would tell stories of things we had done as a family. He would tell me all the different things he liked to do with his daddy. He would tell me things that Barry had said to him. William's memories were painful to listen to. I so desperately wanted William to keep these memories in his heart and struggled with a great fear and sadness that he might forget them. And then I had an idea...

I purchased a Flip Video camera and kept it with me where ever we went. When William would randomly start talking about his daddy, I would record what he said. I wanted William to be able to tell himself memories of his daddy. I know he will forget a lot of the memories he now has. And, hopefully, I will be around for a long time to tell him about his daddy and all the fun things we did together. But I also wanted him to hear memories form his own perspective.  

Since William is only three, most of his videos are about 5-10 minutes. He loves to make them. For some reason, he seems to talk about his daddy most at dinner time, so many of our videos are made right at the table. One of my favorite videos is of William telling me a story about Barry with a mouth full of food - it's going to be great to show him when he's older and easily embarrassed...

For those that are curious, this is one of William's non-food-chewing videos about his daddy.  

"My Daddy's Dead"

I don't know how it feels for you to read those words. I'm guessing it stings a little. No one wants to think about a child losing their father. It hurts even more to hear them come out of the mouth of my sweet 3-year-old each and every day.

William is a very verbal child. I am constantly amazed at the words he uses and how well he communicates. He is his father's child. It is a source of joy for me most of the time. But when he communicates the truth of our new reality, that daddy is dead, it grieves my soul. And during the last 3 months, this is a phrase that I have heard at least a dozen times a day.

William is just trying to process what has happened to our family and communicate his emotions about it. It is a very healthy process for anyone going through grief. It helps me gauge his understanding of Barry's death. It gives me opportunities to talk about Barry with him and seal memories of him in William's heart. It opens the door for us to talk about deep spiritual issues like death, sin, the death of Jesus on the cross, the resurrection, and eternal life. It causes us to stop and pray, asking God to "heal our hearts" and "make our hearts happy again." It helps me to remember the promises of God and trust in His faithfulness during hard times.

But it can also make for very awkward situations. William doesn't just say, "My daddy's dead," to me. He says it to his teachers at school and church. He says it to his friends. He says it to the waitress at the restaurant. He says it to the doctor. I never know when and where it is going to come out of his sweet little mouth.

I am thankful for those who have not only endured these awkward situations with me, but have engaged William with compassion and truth. His teacher at school spent two months talking with him about his daddy each day during nap time - loving him and letting him express his feelings in a safe environment. My heart will forever be grateful to her for the way she served God and our family in her actions. The preschool minister at our church made sure that all of his teachers knew what was going on and encouraged them to engage William with the truth of the Scriptures when he expressed his sadness at Barry's death. And there are those who simply have no words when William expresses, "my daddy's dead," but their eyes fill with tears and he knows that he is not alone in his grief.

My purpose in sharing this with you is this: we live in a fallen world. Because of that, there are so many children who are experiencing grief and tragedy. It is difficult to enter into a child's pain. It hurts. It makes us afraid. It causes us to think about the "what ifs" in our own lives. And often, we just don't know what to say or what to do. So we avoid. But when a child verbalizes his pain and the truth of his reality, it really is a beautiful thing. It is them processing their grief and it helps them to heal. So enter into the pain with them. They are just looking for some safety in a scary time.

If you are a parent who is walking through tragedy with your child, please know that you don't walk alone. Just like our children need us to walk with them and help them process their grief, you have a heavenly Father who also walks with you. He knows the pain and tears that your child's words can bring. He knows how deeply you desire to take away the pain and the temptation to run from it. He will not only walk through the pain with you, but He will carry you when you just can't take another step. And He will deliver you and your child from the hurt and tears.

Helpful Children's Books about Grief

Talking with children about death is one of the most challenging and painful things I have ever had to do. I will write another post on how I told my 3-year-old son that his daddy had died very unexpectedly. This post is to share with you some helpful books that we have used in the days and weeks after loosing my husband.

What Is Heaven Like? by Beverly Lewis

I love this book! It is a beautifully illustrated (by Pamela Querin) story about a boy who's grandfather dies. Each page is about the boy asking a different person about what heaven is like. Each answer tells us about what we will see and do in heaven. The thing I love most about this book is that each page has a scripture on the bottom that is the basis for each idea about heaven. It ends with discussing how a person gets to heaven - by loving and trusting Jesus. 

Help Me Say Goodbye by Janis Silverman

My sweet friend Kim sent me this book shortly after Barry died. It is an activity book to help children process and cope with the death of a loved one. Each page gives an activity for the child to draw or write about different feelings and memories the child has about their loved one. Here is an example of one of the activities my son and I did together:

Instructions: Draw your special someone. What do you like to do with your special someone?

(Since Will is 3, he's learning how to draw. He would tell me what to draw - "Momma, draw daddy's head," and he would add the eyes and mouth or color objects in. The pictures of the things Will liked to do with daddy were drawn my me, as dictatcted by Will.)