How to be compassionate. By a 5 year old.

I was putting J (the 5 year old) to bed tonight, as I do every night. As we settled in to pray and sing, he started asking me questions (as he often does).

The topic ranged all over the place as it is wont to do with a 5 year old.

"But daddy, why didn't you name me Timothy?"

Because there were other names I like better ~ though I do have an uncle Tim that I'm fond of.

"Uncle Tim...wasn't that the one that used to talk about barking spiders in the shop"

Actually that was your great grandpa Don.

"Where does he live now?"

He isn't with us any more. He passed away right after mommy and daddy were married.

"Would I have liked him?

I take a breath. Yes son, you would have loved him. And he would have loved you so very much.

The 5 year old pauses at this point. Then he says quietly:

"You miss him, don't you daddy?"

I pause. Then, also quietly.
Yes son. I miss him. I miss him...a lot.

Again, a pause.

"Daddy? I miss him too. I never knew him, but I miss him."

And I am undone.
Thank you son. Thank you so very...very much.

And as I type this, I begin to cry.
I love you, grandpa.