(AN / Disclaimer I do not own this nor do I own Anne of Windy Poplars! This is only intended to show what I think happened when Teddy Armstrong, a character in that novel, died.)
Teddy Armstrong coughed miserably, unable to breathe. His chest ached with sharp, stabbing pain, hurting to the point where he could no longer stand it anymore. He had recently caught pneumonia and, for the past few days, had been in bed, suffering through it all. Despite the pain, he was unafraid of death and vowed to conquer it valiantly, like a strong warrior.
His father James was silently weeping, sitting in the small wooden chair that was next to Teddy's bed, a usually bare bed that was now heaped up with old pillows and blankets. Since Teddy had caught pneumonia the day after Anne Shirley and Lewis Allen had visited him he had been unable to console himself from the fact that Teddy, his Little Fellow, was going to die.
With what little strength he had, Teddy turned to his father, whose head was clasped in his big hands. "Dad," he began in a hoarse voice, "don't - cry. Come - and sit - closer to me."
James, wiping the tears from his face, picked up his chair silently and brought it closer to Teddy's bedside.
"I want - to ask you something, Dad," Teddy coughed, though he smiled weakly up into his face. "Dad," he said hoarsely, "I think - you've been - mistaken in one thing. . .just one. I guess there is a heaven, isn't - there? Isn't there, Dad?"
"Why do you ask that?" James said quietly, looking up at the little boy.
"'Cause I'm going soon, Dad, and I want - to know if there is someplace - you go after you are dead."
"Well, there is," James replied.
Teddy smiled again contentedly, this time an even bigger smile on his face. "Well, Dad, I'm going there - and Mother and God are there, so I'll be pretty well off." He paused for a moment. "But I'm worried - about you, Dad. You'll be - so awful - lonesome without me. But just do the best you can - and be polite to folks by and by." He coughed again more violently now. "You promise - that you will, won't you? Won't - you?"
"I will," James replied quietly, sniffling.
"Thank you, Dad," Teddy said, his voice even softer.. "I hope - that you really will try hard. I'll miss you - and Carlo so much. I'll even miss Miss Shirley, even though - she came only once. She was so nice and she even - kissed me when she came here. You know, Dad," he said suddenly, "I didn't think - I'd ever like anybody - but you to kiss me, but I liked it when - she did. There was - something - in her eyes, Dad. I really wish - that - that maybe sometime - I could see her again, but I know I can't, 'cause - I'll be in heaven. But I'll be happy - knowing that there's something better waiting - for me, Dad. I'll be even happier knowing - that you're doing the best you can."
The two sat in silence for a while, it only being broken by Teddy's violent coughs. Stroking the messy brown curls on Teddy's head, James comforted him as Teddy prepared to fight his final battle with Death, charging through the ranks bravely.
After the evening sun had disappeared beneath the hills to sleep and a bright, full moon shone its light through the small window in Teddy's room, James decided to leave. "Time for sleep, Little Fellow," he said, patting his head. "Good night." Turning, he was about to exit Teddy's room when he heard Teddy's voice again, calling after him. "Dad, aren't you - forgetting something?"
James turned back to his son. "What is it?"
"You're supposed - to kiss me - when you say 'Good night', remember?"
"Right," he said, and coming back to Teddy's bedside, he kissed Teddy on the forehead. "Good night, Little Fellow," he said again, pulling up the blankets over Teddy.
"Good night, Dad," whispered Teddy, drifting off to sleep, where he died a peaceful death.
