Updated: November 19, 2020
Originally Published: July 9, 2009
As I cuddle up in bed with my three youngest kids to explore the iPad, I’m reminded of the distance between us and their dad, who’s flying from Northern Virginia to California to visit his brother. His four-night absence feels monumental in our family. I pull up a map of the United States, and my kids gasp in wonder as they realize it takes five hours by plane or almost 39 hours by car to reach their destination.
Next, we switch to the world map, and they marvel at how small the U.S. appears compared to the globe. Although we’ve seen maps before, their excitement feels fresh. I point out London, where their Uncle lives.
“Wow, that’s so far!” exclaims my eight-year-old son, Jake.
Then my almost six-year-old daughter, Lily, asks, “Where is Grandpa on this map?”
My heart clenches. It has been four months and 14 days since we said goodbye to their beloved Grandpa.
“Grandpa is in heaven,” I respond, trying to sound assured. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming next, but I’m not quite ready for it. I thought we had covered this ground. I’ve read them age-appropriate books, shared tears, and involved them in memorial services. I thought they understood, but how can a six-year-old fully grasp something so profound?
“I mean, where is heaven on the map?” she asks.
Interestingly, Jake, who usually has all the answers, falls silent. They both want to know exactly where their Grandpa is right now.
“Well, sweetie, heaven isn’t a place you can find on a map,” I explain. “No one alive really knows what it’s like. But many people believe it’s a beautiful place where spirits live on, and you get to be with your loved ones again.”
They nod thoughtfully, absorbing my words. Just then, my three-year-old, Emma, leaps onto the iPad, demanding to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. For a moment, I’m grateful for her distraction.
The conversation shifts, and I allow them ten more minutes of playtime before bedtime. As they dash off to their rooms, I find myself staring at the map, wishing I could locate Grandpa on this device. Imagine if there were an app for that—one that could show us our loved ones one more time, help us explain what goodbye truly means, and guide us through the emptiness.
Parenting while navigating my own grief is an uphill battle. It’s tempting to pretend my children have moved on and no longer think about their loss. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t mentioned Grandpa lately, and why it was surprising that instead of asking about Disney World, they inquired about finding heaven. I did my best to answer, but deep down, I longed to say that I would give anything to pinpoint heaven on the map, to see all my loved ones again, if only for a fleeting moment.
If only I were a better writer, perhaps I could craft “Five Tips for Comforting Your Children After Losing a Grandparent” or a “Parenting Guide for Navigating Loss.” But I’m at a loss. I don’t have all the answers—truthfully, I don’t think anyone does. We simply do our best, just like in every other parenting experience.
Moving forward, I’ll strive to acknowledge my children’s feelings and keep Grandpa’s memory alive. I choose to believe that while I may never find heaven on a map, one day we will all be together again. I will do this for them and for myself.