My brother Charles and his wife Toby had children from high school to not yet in school.  The youngest was Michael.

Charles had a warning heart attack but didn’t take the warning, though Toby had tried.  The second was fatal. So I came back from graduate school to be there when he died and then to celebrate the Mass and help with the funeral.

We did what we had to do and then I drove Toby and the children back out to the suburb where they lived. We got inside and Toby went into the kitchen to get things started.

I sat in a small rocking chair in the living room.  After a few minutes, Michael cam over to me.  He was the youngest, perhaps four years old.  Without a word, he came and climbed into my lap and curled up. I held him rocking quietly for a while.

Then he said softly, “I want him back.” We sat and rocked a little while longer and then he went outside with the others.

There was nothing to say or do. But that has given me a sort of “first prelude” to prayer. I find it easy to imagine myself climbing into the lap of God the Father, where I can say what I need to say.

And that is a great grace and comfort.