Next Tuesday will be three years since our special-needs son Peter, whose story is told in my memoir He Made Us Better: A Story of Faith, Family, Friends (and Football), passed away. I’m no expert on the grief process, but I’ve learned that there’s something very different about losing a child at 39, rather than an older friend or relative at 89. Most days I think I do pretty well, and am blessed with a wealth of great memories. But there are other days, or parts of days, that are still hard.

Over those three years, one thing that has been a great comfort and blessing is to have people share thoughts or memories of Peter with me. But those years have also provided a real learning experience. Before losing Peter, I had heard and read that sharing a thought or memory of a late friend with their spouse, relative, or friend was a good thing to do. Yet I often found myself reluctant to do it.

I’d have a thought that I wanted to share, but then think, “Yeah, but what if they’re having a good day, and I bring this up? I don’t want to ruin their day, or make them sad.” So there were frequently times that I wouldn’t say anything.

How wrong I was! I love it when people share memories of thoughts of Peter. Like, “Boy, Peter would be loving how much better Purdue’s football team is playing this year, with that new coach.” Or, “I really miss seeing Peter at church, I always enjoyed talking with him.” Or, “I remember that time when Peter’s wheelchair malfunctioned and ran into that wall over there. I can still see the dent and think of him every time I go by there.”

Don’t worry about “ruining my day,” or “bringing up Peter when he’s probably the farthest thing from my mind.” First, he’s never far from my mind. Ever. And second, you’re much more likely to make my day.

I’m not sure that I can explain it, other than to say there’s something that warms my heart, that’s comforting, healing and therapeutic about others talking about Peter, and sharing memories. And knowing that others still remember Peter, that he comes to their thoughts with some regularity, that he made a lasting impression on them, inspired them, they too have good memories, and that he made a difference to them in some way or other.

Most of the time you’ll probably make me smile. But if I should get a tear or two, don’t worry that you have “ruined my day.” A tear just shows that you’ve touched my heart, and that I’m in touch with my feelings, which are good things.

I remember years ago, talking with my pastor, Dave Phillips, who’s now our “pastor emeritus.” I asked him, “If I’m saying a prayer, and ask God to tell my grandma or someone up there ‘Hi,’ do you think that happens?” Dave, who’s pretty smart in these types of matters—he’s even got a doctorate—said he was pretty sure it would.

Sometimes when someone talks to me about Peter, I “pass the message on.” I’d love to share one from you.