dear doris. how many kids do you have?
issue 29 ♡ honouring your children in heaven & on earth
dear doris. how many kids do you have? love stranger who means no danger
dear stranger
aside from — where did you get that chair from? or what shade of white is that? the most frequently asked question under the banner of heart is this seemingly straightforward question. i answer from the lens of mama dee today.
kindly note heaven can be replaced with any higher realm that resonates with you. relevant to this week are previous posts issue 9 angels and afterlife and issue 15 on grief and suffering.
i have three kids — one in heaven and two here on earth.
this is a very common question you get asked all the time as a mother or parent and for the most part i imagine it’s a benevolent and a simple one word answer. however in my case, where one has passed through into spirit and into a heavenly realm, it takes a few more sentences to back up the usual one, two or three response.
the first time i was asked — shortly after kawas’ passing — i was taken aback as the man in front of me in the bakery line assumed, “just got just the one, eh” gesturing to my youngest daughter then eighteen months old in my arms. i found myself floundering “um. uh. yeah”, while internally crumbling, crying and cursing myself for not having spoken authentically of my firstborn, as if she had never existed here on earth with us.
the little scenario at the local bakery played over and over in my head, as i reimagined honest and authentic responses that i could have blurted out instead. i could not get over it — that i had not honoured her existence. from that moment onwards, i vowed to always speak the truth of her non physical state of being, no matter how my voice trembles, no matter the tears that threaten to roll down my face — whatever the scenario i find myself in and no matter how inappropriately benign the setting might be.
from that day on, something remarkable happened. i proceeded to make so many grown ups cry — particularly grown men. this is how it usually plays out — “oh, how many kids have you got?” “um. well. i have three — there’s rafa who is [insert age] and a little guy beau who is [insert age] and — they have a big sister kawa who passed away [insert how many years since she passed] and is an angel now”. generally followed by a sharp intake, expletives under their breath and immediate tears welling in their eyes.
i have made grown men cry at sunrise at the flea market, i have made grown men cry sitting outside the local coffee shop in broad daylight, sitting across from me at dinner parties. to this day, six years on, it still takes a breath — a deep breath of chi and life force, before i proceed to share my bare knuckled truth and the honesty hits hard. lately, i find myself consoling them, hugs are offered or a hand on the shoulder. you lose any ownership over your loss — cos’ in those moments it becomes theirs too and a reminder how universal grief is for us all.
these days, i kinda even derive a sort of strange(r) pleasure in making big dudes, old dudes, all sorts of grown ups cry. cos’ when you tell someone you’ve just met that your child has passed away — it obliterates barriers, falsities, socialised airs and dull graces immediately. it means the conversation proceeding will be unvarnished, free of artifice and it is oh-so-bloody refreshing.
my favourite conversations aside from deadstock is speaking of dead people. when you tell me about of a song that reminds me of your deceased husband, when you tell me the nickname of your girlfriend who died when you were a young lad, when you share that a moth or feathered friend is sending you subliminal messages from spirit — i am here for it.
these not-so-strangers will proceed to tell me about their parents who have passed, a cousin, their spouses, their brothers and sisters, their first love — and we will speak fondly and affectionately of the dead. the setting fades away and we are rapt in a conversation bound by love and loss and the precarious nature of life.
when we hold space for the dead, there is honour in their existence on earth and now in heaven. i relish in speaking of the dead — because they are not really dead — they are just without form, so to speak. these pure souls are alive in our hearts and in higher realms. they are very much existing in the non-physical realm of existence. when we grieve for them, the connection to spirit is awakened, jolted and acts as an energetic chord where we can tug at each others heart strings.
so please stranger, please ask me again — how many kids have ya’ got — so it gives me permission to open up the can of woo-woo worms and spill out the guts of life on the raw table so we can speak of epic eternal love. thank you for your question.
love dee x x
ps. previously on dear doris. issue 9 angels & afterlife & issue 15 on grief and suffering.
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today is is kawa’s birthday and ten years since i became a mama. in honour of this special day there is 30% off my book love is. use code: LOVEIS30 available via kawa heart studio. ps. love is. kids tee available.
Gosh, this piece touched me so deeply. 🥹 Thank you for sharing, it was beautiful to have read that before I go to bed (currently midnight where I am)
I find myself lost for words (probably cause it's nearly 11pm and I should really sleep before I'm up with my babies again haha) but this was such a beautiful read. Thank you for sharing your heart Dee. Grateful to have stumbled across your Substack home, I look forward to subscribing and reading more of your work xx