In the same conversational vein as the last post:
The next one, looming so close I can feel its stinky breath on my shoulder, is a conversation about death. And, while I can make up some odd way to deal with the "Why"s -- I love the advice and anecdotes on that one! -- I have NO IDEA how to deal with this weird subject.
The reason I think it will come up soon is because the most recent accursed obsession is The Lion King. And, lemme tell you, there's a lot of death going on there. Most importantly, the death of Simba's father. Ugh.
She hasn't asked yet. But I'm worried. "They fall asleep, and don't wake up"? That can't be good. She'll be even more loath to fall asleep than she is already. I can tell her about heaven, I suppose... but, yikes. Not yet, please.
Any ideas?
I don't really remember my first discussions with my parents about death and dying, but I do vividly remember (as does my mom) telling her that when she and dad died, I would put Band-Aids on them and lie them out in the grass in the backyard. Which was to say, I would take care of them. I would care.
I clearly didn't get it, and my mom thought it was super creepy. She wasn't very reassured.
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I think we adults are more creeped out by death than the little kids -- that is if we can control ourselves enough so that the little kids don't become creeped out.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth has been to three furnerals in her almost five years of life. Twice she has given the person one last kiss good-bye while they were in the coffin.
I have always told Elizabeth that when we die our spirits go to heavan so we can be with God and with the rest of our family members who have already gone there. When she asks where heaven is -- I tell her the truth -- I don't know, but God tells us it's a wonderful, happy place.
The first was my dad. When I found out he had finally passed I practically threw myself on his bed because I wasn't ready to let him go. Elizabeth was about 20 months at the time. She crawled over to me and hugged both me and my dad.
She was part of the entire planning and execution of the funeral. My ex was in the hospital having had a stroke so I had to take her with me to pick out the cofins and everything.
On the last day, when they were going to close the coffin for the last time, I picked her up and said, "Let's say good-bye to Grandpa Henry and let him know we'll see him in heaven." As I was standing next to the coffin, she bent down and kissed him good-bye. I didn't ask her to do. No one else had kissed him in the coffin. She just felt compelled to do it.
She was also very involved with my ex-FIL's funeral several months later.
About three weeks ago we went to my grandpa's funeral. She had no issue with it. She kept giving my grandma hugs and telling her that everything would be OK because Grandpa Henry was waiting for Grandpa Kennith and someday we would be there too. I didn't prompt her -- I just suggested that she shouldn't fight with me about wearing spagetti straps because Grandma was upset that Grandpa died.
When they were getting ready to close the coffin, she asked me to pick her up so she could kiss grandpa good bye. Then she said I should kiss him, too. I was kinda squimsh about it when I wasn't in the midst of the emotional turmoil I felt at the moment of my dad's passing, but I sorta brushed his check for her sake.
When we got to the grave side, Elizabeth said, "That's where they're going to put his body, but he's already with God."
What's my point... don't fret about death. Don't make it scary or lonely or full of monsters.
Death is a good thing... we get to go be with God and the rest of our family. Life is good, too. But death isn't bad (at least I keep telling myself that ;-) )
Hey Kate,
ReplyDeleteLaura told me that this was your blog. Yay. More procrastination for me.
I don't really have much to add to your latest thread. I actually have always had a weirdo death wish and remind the other J frequently, "if I see the white light, I'm not coming back for you." The whole death wish thing doesn't arise out of morbidity, but out of a deep sense that I'm an alien here and 'home' is waiting for me somewhere else.
I'm sort of afraid of having kids because it means that I cannot indulge in my weirdo longings. I'll have to fight to come back from the light.
-Julie
wow, Julie's post is strangely familiar. I relate. I love life so much, but it seems to me sometimes as a single guy, I would rather die than any parents in this world. When I think of the extra pain a parent's death causes a child or a widow, I think I'm a much better choice than the loved ones of the widow and the orphan. It occurs to me if I can feel that way, how must God feel from the pain of the widow and the orphan? We're here such a short while.... Like James says "a mist and then we're gone."
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