Tonight, as we do for many “family home evenings,” we called Matt’s Mom in Utah so she could join in.

We had a lovely time.

And then my daughter asked, “Mommy, where’s your Mom?”

“My Mom died.” I still can’t politely say she passed away-


She didn’t, after all.

“Oh. Where did she die?”

“In a city kind of far away, called Dallas.”

“And did she die in a bed?” Oh I hope so. The truth is I don’t know. It isn’t a question I ever determined worth the asking.

Nut I just answered, “I don’t know, Sam. I think so.”

“Hmmm…so you weren’t there? Did someone else tell you she died?”

Jeremy, Tim (her friend), the Sheriff…


“No, honey. I wasn’t there. Someone else told me.”


I hate that Sheriff.

Mercifully, the questions ended, and Matt took my hand.

I wiped a few silent tears, and thought of the legacy of suicide…

Then I took a deep breath, and nodded- acknowledging my gratitude for the question Sam didn’t ask.


  1. I can’t even imagine how hard that must be for you. How do you explain death to a 4 year old? Mason is so intrigued by it, but doesn’t understand. He keeps asking why his brother died, and when is he going to meet him. It’s so hard to get them to understand.


  2. Wow that’s rough. Just when you think your getting past the hurt and tears, something always brings it back. Devery asks questions from time to time as well. It’s still difficult trying to explain to a 6 yr old.


  3. My friend’s daughter died almost two years ago and to deal with the grief she started a website to help others get through their grief. Since I haven’t experienced this kind of loss myself, I don’t know if it will help, and I know everyone handles things differently, but here’s the site if you’re interested http://www.agoodgrief.com/.


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