Recently I had to have a talk with my kids about death and heaven, and hospitals. It seems they had it all sorted out anyway. My son asked me, "Do you want to live to be 100, mom?"
"Not really."
"'Cause you'll be really old and dying." He said matter-of-factly.
A little later I had to tell them, that great-grandma was not coming out of the hospital. "Is that because she is really old?" he asked. "Yes, but mostly because her body is broken."
"Is she going to die?" my daughter asked. I nodded.
"Where does she go when she dies?" I asked her. She shrugged.
"To God. To heaven," her brother stated.
"Who's going to carry her to heaven?" she asked.
"God!" he answered.
It went on from there, but I was so glad that they had each other. I am sure in the future, her big brother's answers to other questions would steer her wrong, but for now it was a sweet, sweet blessing.
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