Where is heaven? And can he come back?

Distance is felt deeply these days. Distance from our roots, family, friends, and the familiar.

November 9, 2016 will be a day I never forget. That night started like any other. Troy was at work and I was home with the kids but on this night Troy's oldest sister called me. Aubrey was playing an alphabet game on my phone so I let it go to voicemail and thought I would just call her back later however she immediately called back again. I knew something was wrong. A huge knot grew in the pit of my stomach. I answered and she was sullen, withdrawn almost cold even in her tone. She asked where Troy was because he wasn't answering his phone. I explained he was at work but he would be on his lunch break in about 30 minutes if she wanted to try then. There was a brief pause and then I asked her what was wrong. At that moment my world was changed forever. "Daddy is dead" was what she said. My mind went blank and was racing all at the same time. I needed more information. What do you mean? Dead like gone? Not in an accident? Not at the hospital? Where are you? Where is he? Is this a joke? Where is Linda? How do you know?

That was the night that I had to call my husband on his lunch break and tell him to please drive safely and to come home immediately. He knew only something catastrophic had to have happened if I was telling him to come home early. I set the girls up in our room with a movie, turned up the TV, and shut our bedroom door. I called my parents sobbing uncontrollably trying to tell them what had happened and seeking advice on how to break the news and in consequence break my husband. They were just as confused and sad as I was, once they could understand enough of my words between tears.

I started to pray "why God? Why did you take him? We are so far away and we didn't get to say good bye. What happened? Why are you making me tell my husband? This will break him. And I don't know if I am strong enough for the both of us. Give me the right words. Please give me strength."

I sat and waited and tried to prepare myself for the moment that you hope you never have to experience yet is inevitable, a moment that I felt was so many more years in our future. Today was the day I had to tell my husband that his father, his hero, his friend, and confidant had died. I looked out the front door waiting to see headlights whip into our driveway. The moment they flashed across my living room wall I sat breathlessly waiting for him to come inside. The moment he walked in the door I immediately told him the kids and I were fine and to please come sit down. He just kept repeating "just tell me" while standing in the doorway motionless as if time was literally standing still. And then the three words that I had the responsibility of sharing slipped out of my mouth... "it's your Dad." Like a devastated child he crumbled to the floor on his knees with uncontrollable tears and wails of pain from sadness, disbelief and anger. My strong, grounded, and fierce husband wept in my arms and I wept right along with him.

I got on the computer and we booked flights back home for 6:00 am the next morning. We threw some clothes in a suitcase for the family, some clean, some dirty, some essentials and slept for a couple hours before we headed to the airport. The next few days happened in a blur. We had only booked one way tickets. We had no idea what was next or when the services would even take place so our time in California was still undetermined. What we did know was that we wanted to be home with our family, in the comfort of the arms of the ones we love, surrounded by the people who loved us and loved Chuck just as much.

Explaining death, Heaven and faith to a three and four year old has its challenges. When they heard all the commotion outside of our room that night they came bustling out and wanted to know why we were crying. They kept rubbing Troy's leg, shoulder and face with concern for their Daddy. Aubrey's eyes started to well up with tears. Her empathy was surprising to me. She knew something was terribly wrong. It occurred to me as their questions poured over us that this was a teaching moment. It was also a pivotal moment in their own short lives. They may even one day be able to look back on this moment and remember exactly how they experienced their first family death and remember exactly how I handled the situation and my responses to their questions. At that moment I told them that Poppy had gone to Heaven and Daddy was very sad about it. This opened the Pandora's box of follow up questions and the most heart breaking questions of where is Heaven? How do we get there because I want to visit Poppy? And when is he coming back? They not only don't understand the difference between life and death or the distance between Heaven and Earth but also that they won't ever get to touch, hug, kiss, hang out with, call or video chat with their Poppy again. He won't be at their dance recitals, soccer games, Christmas programs, graduations or dance with them at their wedding. My son will have no memories of his own of Poppy. I am heartbroken. I am incredibly thankful for photos, a few short video clips and stories so Landon will one day know of how much he was loved by his Poppy.

It has been 5 months since that tragic day and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Chuck. Some days I am struck with so much grief and it often happens completely out of the blue. I am honest with my kids about my sadness but also about the hope and faith I have that I will see him again someday, when its my turn to go to Heaven when God decides it is time.

One night before bed Aubrey got sad and said she missed Poppy. I gave her the space to be sad and validated her feelings. I told her that Poppy is with her always as he lives in Heaven and in her heart, just like Jesus. I told her she could talk to Poppy like she talks to God whenever she wants and without any promoting she closed her eyes, folded her hands and prayed to God asking him to bring Poppy to her dreams so they could have fun together. Tears streamed down my face as my four year old daughter showed me how amazing her faith in God is and how her love for her Poppy are both built deep inside her.

Our conversations about death, heaven and Poppy aren't over. The loss of our son Caleb brought more grief in December and even more questions from my girls. Heart breaking questions with heart breaking answers. I try to find a way to bring the conversations back around to celebrating life, even when we can be consumed with moments of sadness. Whenever I feel the need for myself or if they ask, we pop in the DVD of the photo montage we made for Chuck's memorial service and see all the pictures of Poppy, as a kid, a young man, a newlywed, a dad and a grandfather. Our stories and these photos will let Poppy live on even if he isn't here on Earth with us anymore. My kids will know their Poppy. His story isn't over yet. He is missed but never forgotten. 

This was the last time we saw Poppy. They came out to visit us in Texas for Olivia's 3rd birthday. He passed 17 days later.

Landon got to go to Disneyland and meet Mickey Mouse for the first time with Poppy and Grammy.