Bowling with God

We told her Pop was upstairs
Bowling with God

She was curious
But she nodded

Bowling with God was acceptable to her

We didn't tell her
That the bowling was going to go on
For quite some time

Forever, in fact

Or not, if you consider the Afterlife
Which may or may not--

Well, why get into it?

My mother doesn't have an attic
So why we said 'upstairs'
Is beyond me

Maybe we thought Kaitlynn wouldn't think of
There not being an 'upstairs'
Or maybe she would figure out
That 'upstairs' meant something bigger
Than just 'upstairs'

It was silly to give her that much credit
But she is smart

The problem is she's also very literal

Most children are

I feel like a good parent would know that

Nevertheless, she wound up on the roof

Crawled out my mother's bedroom window
Onto the awning over the porch
And up onto the roof of the house

I should mention that
If this all weren't horrible enough
She did this during a thunderstorm

Because that's when we told her
The bowling was going on

During a thunderstorm

She's a very brave little girl

Either that
Or she just really missed my Dad
Her grandpa

Probably a bit of both

She could have gotten hit by lightning
She could have fallen off the roof
She could have experienced a million different tragedies

All because we said something as stupid as
'Pop's bowling with God now, Kaitlynn'

Stupid, just stupid

But we don't do much of God in our family
We don't explain God
We don't ask about God
We certainly don't go to church

But we also believe in God
Isn't that funny?

It's just a given
We believe in God
But we act as if God's not there

It's like asking if you love your parents

Well, yes, I do
They're my parents

But do you really love them?
Or does it just seem like you HAVE to love them

I didn't have to love my father
But I did anyway
He was a wonderful man

And Kaitlynn adored him
And he adored her
And when he died
The best I could do
To explain to this little girl
Why this awful thing happened was--

'Pop's bowling with God'

It sounded so pleasant
And fun, and easy
And amusing

And it conjured up a goofy image
And that was the best I could do

No wonder she wound up on the roof

You have to understand

She kept asking about my Dad
Then about God
And my Dad and God
And all these things
And I just...

What do you say?

Bad things happen?

How do you say that to a child
And then assure them
That bad things won't happen TO THEM
Or to you, their mother
Or to their grandmother
Or their friends?
Or all of us?
The world?

Once you expose them to the fact
That horrible things happen in this world
Horrible things that are also quite natural
Like growing old and getting lung cancer
And dying like Pop

Things that cannot be stopped

How can you show them that
And then say--

Oh, but it's conditional

It only happened this once

It won't happen again

You don't
You can't
And after that
They're not kids anymore

They're just not

So instead, she wound up on the roof
During a thunderstorm
Wondering where the pins were
And the balls and the ugly shoes
And the bad pizza
And God
And her Grandfather

And I got her down
Without much fuss
Aside from being soaking wet
And shaking so badly
I thought my teeth were going to
Smash into each other
Forming one big hideous tooth

And I said--

'Kaitlynn, it's an expression.'
'What is?'
'What we told you. It's an expression.'
'I don't know what that means.'

That's what kills me about her
She'll actually say to you--

'I don't know what that means'

And it is your job
It is your JOB
As a parent
To help her understand
Without hurting her
Without taking away who she is
At this fleeting age

'It means we shouldn't have said it.'
'Pop's not up there?'
'No.'
'He's somewhere else.'
'Yes.'
'Is it raining there too?'
'Probably not, no.'
'I knew he wasn't bowling. You can't bowl in the rain.'
'No, you can't.'
'But he's okay?'
'Yes and no. He's sad that he's not with you and me and Grandma anymore and he misses us a lot, but he was sick for a really long time. Remember how he was sick? And he's not sick anymore. And that's a really good thing.'

And I look at her
And she processes
And I wait
And she nods

'Okay'

I finish drying her off with a towel
And I give her a big hug

'I'm not a horrible mother, right?'

I don't actually ask this
But I really want to

Instead I say--

'Love you crazy'

And she says--

'Love you crazy too'

Which is what we say
Which she probably also doesn't understand

But one day
She will