"We'll meet again, don't know where ... "

As always, Joseph and I shared a story about Christmas (don’t ask), before he went to sleep the other night. Somehow, our conversation ended up with him upset and me almost upset.

It went something like this.

J: Were you sad when the soldiers killed him?

Me: Who?

J: Jesus.

Me: Erm ... well, yes. But Jesus didn’t die until he was much older.

J: Are you going to speak to Jesus one day?

Me: Yep. Not in person though; not for a long time!

J: Can I talk to him one day?

Me: Of course. But not until you’re very old.

J: When you die, am I going to get another Mum and Dad?

Me: No, of course not.

J: What? Am I going to be on my own?

Me: No. By this time, you’ll be a Daddy, with a family of your own. You’ll never be on your own, ever.

This 'chat' took place over about 5 minutes and by now, big fat tears were welling in his eyes. He seemed genuinely concerned he might be ‘on his own’.

J: When you die, will you go to the place with the stones?

Me: The what? What stones?

J: You know – the gravestones.

Me: Oh, yes, one day. Not for a long time though.

J: Will I be able to see you still.

Me: No my love. You’ll be able to come and speak to me though. We’ll be able to speak to each other forever.

J: (crying) WHAT? But I won’t be able to see you??? I want to see you. Will I be able to see you again?

Me: (trying to rectify my mistake) Of course you will. One day, long after I’ve gone to live with Jesus, you’ll be able to come and live with us too. We’ll all be able to live with each other again in heaven.

J: How? Is heaven big? How will we all be able to live together?

Me: Heaven is very big. We’ll all see each other again, don’t you worry about that.

I hugged him really hard, kissing the top of his head, with him laughing and sucking his thumb, but with glistening eyes. I think I would have been ok had it not been for one fat tear that escaped and rolled down his cheek which choked me up.

I felt quite sad afterwards; sad that he would think along those lines, worrying about being alone.

The subject of being alone reminded me of one of my favourite films; Arthur, a millionaire drunk playboy played by Dudley Moore, and his butler Hobson, brilliantly portrayed by the excellent Sir John Gielgud. When Hobson dies, Arthur loses not just his valet but the father he never had.

In the scene following Hobson’s death, Arthur is sat at a bar, clearly plastered, explaining to the drunk next to him that he should seek out his family.

“Find your brother", he tells him. “No-one should be alone. It’s awful, to be alone”.

Don’t worry Poops – you won’t be alone.

I promise.