Hard questions, and even harder answers

Before I get into the Blair-related story, I need to give you a little bit of a back story so that the Blair part will make a little more sense.

When I was about four months pregnant with Blair, my dad committed suicide. I miss him terribly, and the thing that I have always hated most from the moment that I found out what happened is that he never got the chance to meet Blair. I spoke to him on the phone four days before it happened, and we were talking about the fact that Brian and I had an appointment in a couple of weeks to find out the sex of our baby. My dad said that I should just cancel the appointment, because he just knew that we were going to have a boy, and that he would have the famous "Cornelison ears." (If you know me, you know that I myself was blessed with the Cornelison ears ... which are basically HUGE ears that stick out). I just laughed and said we'd see soon enough. Four days later, I learned that he'd taken his own life with a single gunshot wound to the head (sorry to be graphic, but it is relevant to the Blair-part of the story). While I'll never agree with his decision, I'm slowly letting go of the anger and coming to accept his decision. My dad was such a good man ... he had one of the best hearts you've ever known. But, again, as much as I miss him, I am so disappointed that he never held or saw Blair.

Blair has been pretty curious about my dad for the past year ... maybe a little longer. She started by asking who my daddy is and where he is. I just explained that he went to Heaven to be with Jesus before she was born. She seemed to accept that readily enough for a while, which was a good thing because I certainly didn't want to get into an in depth explanation with her. She doesn't need to know about suicide right now.

Then, about 5-6 months ago, as we were getting ready for work and daycare, she asked me who "shooted" my daddy. Again, I've never gone beyond telling her that he's just in heaven with Jesus. I just looked at her and said "I don't know" - she caught me WAY off guard and I didn't have a clue how else to respond. A couple of days later, she asked me if he had a booboo on his head. And again, I said "I don't know" and quickly changed the subject.

Blair went to stay with my mom in Florida last month, and Brian and I joined them for a few days when it was time for us to pick her up. At dinner one night, my mom, step dad, Brian and I were talking about whether ghosts might be real. I've never believed in them, because if I allow my imagination to go in that direction, I'll never sleep again. Plus, I've always been content to believe that you either go to Heaven or hell when you die ... I like the simplicity of it. Mom and Richard had recently read the book "Heaven is Real" which was penned by a little boy who had a very close encounter with death and came back with some amazing stories to tell his family. I mentioned Blair's recent questions about my dad to them during the conversation, and mom said that Blair had asked her earlier in the week who had "shooted" mommy's dada. She suggested that if she ever asked anything like that again, that we should try to keep our composure and ask why she's asking ... how did she know that he was shot, etc.

Sooo .... we went to Shellman Bluff with some friends over the Labor Day weekend and had a blast. One morning, as we were waiting for the boys to get back from fishing so that we could all go to the beach, Blair asked me why my dad "shooted himself in the head?" After I picked my mouth up off the dock, I said: "Well honey, I'm not sure why. But I wonder how you know that he did that?" She didn't miss a beat with her response ... just as matter-of-factly as you please, said:

"Because I saw through the window in your tummy."

I relayed this whole thing to Brian, and he was pretty blown away too. His question: "How do you explain that?" My response: "I don't think that you can."