"Do you have to brush teeth in heaven?"

Nicholas,

Tonight at bedtime you cried uncontrollably...really, you sobbed so much I think you were close to hyperventilating (you said, "My tummy hurts and my head feels dizzy.").

When you calmed down enough to talk, I asked why you were so sad and you replied, "I don't want Halmoni and Halabeoji [Korean words for grandparents] to die." (between sobs)

"What made you think of that? Halmoni and Halabeoji are downstairs. You know that when your body stops working is when you die? Their bodies are working fine. Why did you think about when they die?"

"I was just in my bed and I thought about it and it made me SO sad. I would miss them SO MUCH." (still crying, and snubbing, trying to get it all under control)

"It is sad to think about people dying." (teary-eyed, trying to maintain composure) "I think it makes us so sad because we miss people when they're gone and it hurts us deep inside. Did you know that when God made the first people, Adam and Eve, that he didn't want them to die? The Bible says that God wrote eternity on our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3). Do you know what eternity means?"

Shakes head, "No."

"Eternity means forever. We were made for eternity, for forever, but we can't live forever in these bodies on earth. That's why God made a plan for us to get to heaven, and why our bodies will be different then (2 Corinthians 5)."

"Can people die then?"

"Now our bodies can get hurt or sick and we get hungry and when someone's body stops working on earth they die. But the Bible says that in heaven there won't be anymore death or crying or pain."

"Mommy, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, buddy. You can ask me anything."

"Did you feel so sad when Memaw died?"

(Now I'm crying) "Yes, I did. Because I knew I would miss her a lot. I also felt glad though, because Memaw had been so sick--not like a cold or stomach ache--but sick with cancer. She had to take a lot of medicines and so her body got weaker and hurt a lot. When she died, I knew she went to heaven and got a new body and she wouldn't hurt anymore, so even though I felt really sad, I also felt glad."

"Do we get to eat in heaven?"

"I'm not sure if our new bodies will need food like we eat here."

"But in that song we sing about a 'big, big table, with lotsa, lotsa food'."

"You're right. Jesus talked about banquets and feasts in his stories."

"Do you think there will be bubble gum and ice cream at the banquets?"

"That would be yummy, wouldn't it?"

"Do you have to brush teeth in heaven? After you eat all that sugar?"

"I don't know. Maybe Daddy does, since he knows a lot about teeth. I don't remember reading anything about toothbrushes in the Bible, so maybe not."

(Giggling) "Mommy, I'm glad we talked about this stuff. Can we pray for Halmoni and Halabeoji now?"

"Sure."

In Memory

It's hard to explain exactly what I've been feeling the last few days. I found out that a classmate of mine, from middle & high school, died unexpectedly.

As I began writing, in her memory, I tried to think of specific memories I have of her. They are few and scattered. In middle school, when we met, she was the support necessary to get to the top of cheerleading pyramid and laughter as we tried to learn new dance routines. In high school she was a timid, but friendly smile in the hallway between classes. In recent years the memories consisted of facebook status updates and changes of profile pictures.

But I get it. While my interactions with this woman were limited and just a small piece of the picture of who she was and who she became, to some she was everything.

For the little girl that will sit across from an empty seat at mealtimes, she was everything.

For the man that now sleeps in his marriage bed alone, she was everything.

For the sister that no longer has someone that understands every part of her past, present, and hopes for the future, she was everything.

For the parents that were there for her first breaths, and tomorrow will be there to place a lifeless body in the ground, she was everything.

Everyone is everything to someone.