It's been a difficult past few days for me since my daddy died. I've received such wonderful love and comfort from those around me and I feel so blessed to have such caring people in my life. I honestly don't think I could've gotten through the weekend without my best friend, Mandi, here to keep me centered and make sure I got to the funeral home on time. She even put up with my bouts of insomnia and didn't complain when I watched Tom & Jerry cartoons at 4 a.m. on Saturday. I know the volume was probably louder than it needed to be at that time.
Perhaps the most unusual source of comfort came from someone others might think incapable of offering it. Tonight, my friend, Julie, called to check on me and her six-year-old son, McCartney, got on the phone. Here is some of our conversation:
Me - Hey, McCartney! How are you?
Mc - I'm sorry to hear about your daddy dying.
Me - Thank you! That means alot!
Mc - I wanted to come to the funeral.
Me - I know. Your daddy and Nana told me. It was OK, though, that you didn't come.
Mc - Did you see your daddy dead?
Me - Yes.
Mc - Was there blood?
Me - No, he just went to sleep and then went to Heaven.
Mc - I don't see him (I'm guessing he was looking up cause I know he was outside; I heard a train whistle blow).
Me - Well, you probably can't see him. But he is up there with the angels and God.
Mc - Did the angels come get him?
Me - Yeah, they did.
Mc - When?
Me - Friday morning.
Mc - Hmmm ... hey .... do God and Jesus sleep?
Me - I don't think so, but what do you think?
Mc - I think they are WAYYYYYY too busy to sleep.
This was all from a kid who will enter first grade soon and already reads at a third-grade level and who declared, at 2, that "I IS a genius!" All of the folks eating at Dixie Castle that night thought his declaration was hilarious. I knew it was simply the truth.
And I still think so.