He was talking about something, like a car crash, that might happen, this four year old boy.
“Then,” he concluded, “I’d go right to heaven and see Daddy.”
He thinks a minute.
“I’d take him chocolate.”
I swallow and think hard before I speak.
“It would be wonderful to see Daddy,” I agree, “But he might want you to wait a little while. He was quite old, wasn’t he, when he went to heaven?”
No answer from the backseat so I forge on.
“Daddy might want you to finish school and have fun doing lots of sports, and get a job you love, and meet a special girl, the way he met Mommy and loved her and she loved him and they loved each other and had you and your brother to love too.”
There’s a kilometer of silence from the backseat before I hear a small “Yeah.”
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