Life Lessons

When raising children a parent can teach life lessons a few different ways.  Many times a parent can recognize a child is ready to handle a new concept or that a parent needs to teach something before the world teaches the child.  Sometimes we wait for life to present the opportunity.  However it is started, there are lessons our children need to learn.

Yesterday, I took the kids to the funeral of their great-uncle on their dad's side.  It was a beautiful service.  I also took Grandma Evelyn and I continue to love the time I share with her.  The kids have attended funerals of their grandparents so that was not a shock for them.

However, at the graveside dedication, Keaton recognized that in place of a coffin was a silver vase.  He asked me where Uncle Jim was.  I looked over at the urn and realized all the other funerals he has attended, there was a coffin.  He had always had the opportunity to see the person before laid in their final resting place.

I recognized this was one of those moments a parent has to prepare a lesson in the blink of an eye.  As my thoughts were processing, I could see his questioning eyes looking back at me.  I also realized I could just easily say, "Oh, Keaton he chose to be burned in a fire and those are his ashes."  Recognizing death is already a difficult subject, I knew that would not be a wise approach. 

First, I pulled Keaton close to me.  With my arm around him we looked over at the urn.  I began to explain that when someone dies they have a choice to be buried in a coffin as some of our relatives have or to have their ashes placed in something like a vase with a lid.  The ashes can be buried or they can be scattered in a special place or some family members even chose to keep the ashes in their home.  This information was accepted but I knew the question was coming.

He looked at me with those gentle, questioning eyes and I found myself at a loss.  How do I explain this without it sounding like sticking a person in the kitchen oven.  Luckily Stephen was right there and I turned to him.  I told him Keaton is asking about why Uncle Jim is in a vase and not a coffin.  Between the two of us, we explained people can chose to be placed in a special oven that heats so hot it can even turn bone to ash.   Stephen knew the technical parts of the answer and I followed it up with the spiritual. (Thanks Stephen for helping me with that one.)

After a few comments from Keaton I was confident the topic was over.  It wasn't until a few hours later, after the family lunch and dropping of Grandma Evelyn, we were alone in the car, and he blurted out, "I don't want you to be incinerated."

Oh, my sweet tender Keaton.  I love you with all my heart.  You have a sensitive heart that ponders things over for understanding.  We do not know the plan our Heavenly Father has for us.  I hope and pray I will be with you for many many years to come and that you will not have to consider this for me for a very long time.  But as much as I believe we will live very long happy lives, life can change in the blink of an eye.  This is one reason I am grateful to have the blessing of the gospel of our savior Jesus Christ in our lives.  We know this life is only a twinkling in the span of time we will have together in the eternities.  When a loved one dies it is very painful to be away from them.  And Keaton, I never want to be away from you.  But please know, if we are separated in this life, I will be waiting for you in Heaven.  I will prepare for you to come.  We will join grandparents and other loved ones that have gone before.  Thank you for loving me.  Thank you for being my most amazing son.  I am lucky to be your mother and share this journey with you.

With that, we jumped out of the car and went in to watch my nephew play 2nd grade basketball.  And that is how life works.  We tackle the moments we are presented with and then move on to the next.  I learned a great lesson today.  In trying to explain the small details of death, such as cremation, my son needed to hear about the larger picture, eternal life.  Maybe this was a lesson I needed to remember as well.