This morning after a lovely magical trip in to the BBC to see her Daddy and his studio’s in full flow, Esther and I sat down in the playroom to have some serious play time together. At one point she turned to me with a loud and accusatory voice, “Shush Mummy!” (I was silent at the time,) “I am on the PHONE!”

(No prizes for where she got THAT phrase…)

She then proceeded to have a fairly long and detailed conversation in her two-year-old mix of toddler-babble and actual words in the English language.

“Who are you talking to?” I whispered, when I thought it might be safe to speak.

“Grandma,” Esther smiled… ” in heaven.”
I confess that this rather caught me off guard. I was not hugely ready to play this game.

“Oh yes,” I asked somewhat cautiously, “erm… how is she?”

“Good. She is eating ice cream.”

Again I was not ready for that answer. I am sure that Grandma is now able to enjoy ice cream in bountiful supply. After all it won’t be fattening… or if it is, no-one will mind, or notice or care. She will not be worrying about any issues around sensitive teeth either. Perhaps she is indeed downing the Vienetta like there is no tomorrow. Because in a very amazing way, there isn’t.

“Good.” I said, pleased that my daughter is able to act out her missing of her Grandmother in such a positive way. I gulped down a big mouthful of hot water so that I didn’t need to say anything else.

Esther changed the game and went seamlessly into a shopping narrative where she sold me a piece of plastic toast for the princely sum of ten pounds.

The children are an amazing reminder of the truth that Mum is safe, well and happy. They remind me on dreary days that she is in heaven, not lost for eternity or lying on that constantly moving care bed avoiding pressure sores. They show me that there is nothing to be sad about as she is happy and healed.

Praise God for the truth of heaven! It’s not a childish fantasy or a playwright’s invention but a solid reality.