From the mouths of babes

With Nana's passing recently, at 102 years old (!), we've had a lot of discussion about death and dying and churches and ceremonies and how we honor our family and what we believe and traditions and so on. Here are a few highlights.

Miri, inquisitively:  Mommy, how old are you?

 

Mommy, curiously: 45

 

Miri, matter-of-factly: Oh, well, you're just about ready to die. Yup. That's it!

 

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Miri, from the front pew of the church during Nana's funeral Mass: Who's the bed for?

 

Mommy, mortified: Nana, honey. For her eternal rest. 

 

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Aleaha, after the Mass: What do you call those boys in the black and white robes?

 

Mommy, educationally: They are Altar Boys. They assist the Priest.

 

Aleaha: Hmm. Can girls do that?

 

Mommy: Yes, sure.

 

Aleaha: What about the tall guy in the robes with the gold on it?

 

Mommy: That's the Priest. We call him Father.

 

Aleaha: Can girls do that too?

 

Mommy: No.

 

Aleaha, huffy: Well, that's not fair!