Here is how it goes.
"Hi Dave. Nice to meet you. Do you have kids?"
"Hi. Nice to meet you too. Yes, I have 9 children."
"9 Children!!!. Oh my, how old are they?"
"Well, the oldest is 42 now and if the youngest had lived, she would be 22."
Quizzical look.
My explanation - "The two youngest were killed in 1993 in a drunk driving crash - Brigid, our youngest was 5, and Ryan, was 8. Today, they would be 22, and 25."
"I am so sorry."
"Thanks, and you, do you have kids?"
Years ago a friend of mine had 7 children, the oldest of which had died in her 20s. when he was asked how many kids he had, he said, "6" and I almost interrupted him to correct him and say, "No, you have 7", but quickly realized it wasn't my place, and let it go, but I never forgot it, and I made a promise to myself and to my children that I would never disavow them. They are always my children dead or alive.
It then dawned on me that their physical bodies are dead, but their spirits will live on in the stories and conversations which include them. And live on they have not only in my heart, but in the hearts and minds of others with whom they are mentioned and talked about. These references, these memories, are a great comfort to me, and, I think, to others.
I liked being Brigid and Ryan's father. They were great kids and I enjoyed them immensely, and learned a tremendous amount about myself, and them, and the world from my relationship with them. That relationship continues and not a day goes by that I don't think about them, and experience myself in relation to them.
There is value and a power in these memories which enriches my life and the lives of others in wonderful ways. While the body dies, surely, the spirit goes on in the hearts and minds of those who loved them, they loved, and the world comes to know.
This is article #12 in a series on Grieving Parents.
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