Little One’s Heartbreaking Question Leads to a Book About Love that Knows No Bounds

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“Daddy, when I die, will you come to Heaven with me?”

I remember it like it was yesterday. My wife, our two boys, and I were driving to the birthday party of a friend of my oldest son. My wife was manning the Sirus XM. She landed on a station, and the words, “Kobe Bryant and others are dead following a helicopter crash today in Calabasas—” pierced the air my family and I were breathing. My oldest son, who had just turned 4 years old, didn’t miss a beat and pointedly asked, “What does dead mean?” He had danced around this word before in a somewhat casual way that children do while playing with toys or having abstract conversations, but this time was different. He was determined that we would give him a substantial answer.

I knew this time was coming…by the preschool years, children are starting to understand the concept of death but struggle with the idea that death is permanent. My wife and I pride ourselves in being as honest with him as possible, giving him little pieces of the pie to satiate his highly inquisitive nature. We looked at each other, swallowed, and attempted to answer his question to the best of our ability without overwhelm. I don’t remember exactly what we said. I just know that I felt relief that we arrived at the party shortly after, and his attention shifted to play and cake mode. We finished the weekend without any heavy follow-up questions.

A dour and overcast Monday morning came and went, and I picked my precious boy up from preschool. I had to run errands in town afterwards. I pulled into the parking lot, stepped out of my truck, and made my way to the back to get him out of his child seat. I was exactly at eye level with him as I began the unbuckling process. He looked directly at me and asked, “Daddy, when I die, will you come to Heaven with me?”

My heart stopped, and I just froze. It felt like hours, or no time at all. His question was beautiful, scary, and heartbreaking all at the same time. In the Pantheon of parenthood, I realize these kinds of queries are standard fare.  Still, I personally had been in the throes of anxiety and grief dealing with familial loss for a while now. By my early 30s I had lost my sister, mother, and father; each of their deaths was different in nature, but similar in scope of tragedy. I had been working on my healing through many different modalities, but at the time, our son’s question cut straight to my core.  I was caught off guard. I steeled myself, gave him a big hug, and told him, “Of course, I would.” I knew as the words came out of my mouth that it was the best I could muster, given the situation at that moment, but my answer felt insufficient, if not disingenuous. I followed up, telling him that I am always here for him and that my love for him knows no bounds. He didn’t really press further, and we went about our errands.

A few days later I pulled into our driveway in the evening.  I became overwhelmed with emotion and just sat in my seat bawling.  Instinctually I pulled out my iPhone and began writing a poem. There was no agenda, just my honest attempt to clumsily answer his question.  I sat with it for a while and had a novel thought. “This would actually be better served as a picture book for children.” And thus, my book journey began.

Parenthood can be challenging. Life is complex and nuanced, and the idea of its ending can be scary. There are no right answers, but it is my sincere hope that I’ll Be With You Wherever You Are might offer some comfort and whimsy to your child, as well as your own inner child when they ask you life’s hard questions.