Remembering Pop

Jack says a prayer every night before he goes to bed. It usually consists of a list of names of our family members and him thanking God for them. Every night he still prays for Pop (this was his name for Jeremy's dad, Henry).  After his prayer, he likes to hear a story from me and/or Jeremy about when we were little. 

Tonight I had a conversation with Jack after his prayer:

Me: Jack, where is Pop?

Jack: He's hugging Jesus.

Me: Can we see Pop any more?

Jack: No, he's hugging Jesus. Will you tell me a story?

I went on to recall a familiar scene that I re-lived this week when I was shopping at Sam's. Henry worked part-time at Sam's up until he was diagnosed with brain cancer in December 2007. We would often make an impromptu visit to Sam's just to let Pop see Jack. I distinctly remember how everyone there knew who Henry was and, probably more sweet, knew who Jack was. This, I know, is due to Henry talking about him to his co-workers. Whenever we would arrive, Henry would come take Jack out of his stroller and show him off to everyone. We'd follow behind him in the store and get all the quick intros. He'd then give him a peck on the cheek and return him to us as we went about our shopping. 

As I concluded this "story" to Jack, I couldn't help but tear up towards the end. The next conversation ensued:

Jack: Momma, you okay?

Me: Yeah, I just miss Pop.

Jack: It's okay. (he strokes my hair) He loves you, I promise. (strokes my hair again) I promise.

Oh, to have the faith and innocence of a child. Jack has always been my intuitive, sensitive little soul. I believe that his compassionate heart will someday serve as a great servant to our Lord.  

Jack, you teach me so much more than I could ever instill in you! I love you deeply!