I Know Where Daddy Is...

I decided that I couldn’t go back to my church after the whole mess with how unresponsive they were to us.  There were no parishes that were close that I liked; they were extremely conservative and so I decided to go out to Steve’s church in Purcellville.  They had a wonderful music program and we enjoyed the Saturday night mass.  We saw a lot of Steve as a result.

Michael was pretty well behaved in church considering his age.  I just needed to separate the two of them and they were okay for the most part.  The parishioners got used to seeing us there and it was nice to feel a part of a community.

One day, we had arrived early and were sitting in the pew waiting for mass to begin.  Steve had been hearing confessions in a room off the side of the altar.  When Michael saw Steve coming out, he said, “Mom, I know where Daddy is.” I asked “Where?” “Daddy’s up there behind that big thing where Uncle Steve is.”  “Oh!”I replied.  “Tell Uncle Steve when he comes by.”  When Steve stopped to say hi on his way to get prepare for celebrating mass, Michael told him.  “Go see,” Steve said.  Michael and I walked up to the altar and checked behind it and in the confessional room but we didn’t find Daddy.  Michael seemed satisfied. 

It was a hard time during that summer and I cried a lot.  Michael was my little cuddle-bug gave me hugs and Michael blankets.  I needed to have a little one there with me.  His little face would look at me while I was crying and he’s say, “Mom, why are you crying?  Oh that’s right, Daddy died.” One day, he came up with another announcement, “I know when Daddy’s coming back?”  Jack and I asked, “When?” “He’s coming back in a hundred years,” he would say confidently.  Jack would roll his eyes and I would just have to laugh and give Mike a squeeze.  He was my joy.  If you can't have a sense of humor, all is lost.