Hard Day

Today is the 4th anniversary of my dad's death, but this year it's weighing on me a lot since having to explain that to my 3 year old.

I was telling her that Grandma C (my mom) lives in Kentucky. She asked if Grandpa Steve lived there too, because Grandma S and Papa live together in Ohio. I told her he used to live there, but now he's in heaven. And because she's 3-
3: Can he come visit us?
me: No honey, he can't. And we won't see him right now, at least for a while.
3: Can we see him?
me: No sweetheart. No, not for a long time.
3: Why?
me: Well, um, he died a few years ago, before you were born.
3: Why did he die?
me: -deep breath- he was very, very sick.
3: Did he take any medicine?
me: He did, but he was so sick medicine couldn't help.
3: Why?
me: Sometimes people get so sick medicine won't work anymore.
3: Oh. Will he come back? Will he wake up?
me: No honey, that's not how death is. When someone dies, their spirit is gone.
3: What's that?
me: umm, a spirit is... Well, you know how you can see and hear things? And you talk, breath, and laugh? All those things?
3: yes!
me: well, all that together, that's a spirit. So my daddy's spirit is...is...it's gone sweetie.
3: oh.

By then I was pretty drained and I was starting to well up, so dr soc quickly changed the conversation and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

--later that night as we were tucking her into bed--

3: Mommy? Were you sad when your daddy died?
me: Yes sweetie. Very very sad. 

I still am. Miss you daddy.