The Veil

They say kids say the darnedest things. They really do. Random, darned things.

On Saturday, after his and Erianna's soccer game, I was hanging out in the bleachers with Eli while he ate his snack. Out of nowhere he said, very matter-of-factly, "Auntie, you're my mommy's sister."

"Yes, that's right," I replied.

"And my grandpa is your daddy and mommy's daddy."

"Yep, Grandpa is our dad."

"And my old grandma was your mommy."

"Right."

Wow, random soccer-field talk. Especially for a 5-year-old child who never met my mom. I guess Eli's just trying to put 2 and 2 together and understand our family web. I remember being a little kid and trying to figure out my family - which even as uncomplicated as it really was - was confusing enough for a kid brain, and they were all alive and kicking at the time.

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During our Sunday sermon this past weekend, our pastor was talking about how to pray and just be in the moment or in a place to experience God. We read the passage of the New Testament where Jesus goes on top of the mountain to pray about what he must do at the cross. In that passage, Moses and Elijah appear to Jesus. Oh yes, and they just happen to be dead at the time.

Our pastor talked about how very paper thin the veil between this world and the next is, and in his own words, how, if He really wanted to, God could just let our dearly departed "pop back in on us." The pastor spoke of how the church was full, and not only with the congregation, but with those who have come and gone before us.

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Then suddenly, Eli's comment wasn't so random anymore. Shortly after my mom died - I can't remember if it was the summer she passed away, or if it was later that holiday season - I'm pretty sure she was around quite a bit. Depending on the time of year it was, Erianna was either not quite a year, or just over that mark - she was still bald, which I guess covered her life until about the age of 2, though. She was in that phase where she was working on standing and walking, but would frequently hold onto things while standing.

In the front living room at my parent's house sat my mom's chair. Before she died, she would sit in it after work; reading a book, talking on the phone, or rocking Erianna. I remember one afternoon, we were all at my dad's house. Since Erianna was in the early stages of being mobile, she was still a bit difficult to keep up with. I found her in the front room, holding onto my mom's chair, looking right at the empty seat, her whole face lit up. She was giggling and "talking" to no one. Or to someone.

I don't always feel my mom around like I used to, but I know she's still here. It was evident when Erianna was "talking" to her seven years ago. It's evident when Eli casually mentions her.

It's always hard to lose someone you love, but as we were reminded of so sweetly this weekend, those that love us never truly leave us. The veil is paper thin, after all.