It’s the Living in Between that Matters

I remember very clearly the day I realized my parents were going to die. I was about seven. We were visiting my grandparents in Alaska. My brother and I were tucked in for the night in the bedroom my dad used to share with his brother. I lay under a thin red quilt, the Alaskan summer sun still streaming through the window, despite what seemed to be a very late hour. My brother was breathing rhythmically in the other twin bed, but I was wide awake, paralyzed by the sudden realization that someday, my parents would be gone. I remember trying to rationalize it, thinking “well, they’re only about 40 now, they will still be alive for a very long time.” But it didn’t really help. The floor had fallen out from underneath me.

My oldest son is only five, but he has already been struggling with the concept of death for a while.  He was probably newly four, maybe even still three, when he asked if Nana was my mother. I explained that she was my stepmother, and that my mother had died. He thought about that for a few seconds before bursting into tears “but I don’t want you to die!” and then, “I don’t want to die!”

I was not expecting that conversation, but we talked about it. We talked about how peoples’ bodies stop working, or their minds stop working, and it is time for them to die. We talked about how we are young and healthy, and it probably won’t happen for a very long time. He cried, I tried not to. I was raised Unitarian, and my thoughts on the afterlife are not fully formed. But I finally tried to comfort him by telling him that some people believe that there is a place called heaven, where friends and families and even pets can all meet up again someday. That did seem to help, and we hugged each other on the kitchen floor, hoping that heaven was real.

We live near a funeral home. We walk by it several times a day, going to the library or the park or pretty much anywhere we need to go. After that conversation my son asked a lot of questions about it, some not quite on point. (“Why do people when they get really sick go there and die?”) One of my husband’s favorite overheard conversations occurred when walking by it. My son was sitting with my daughter in the double stroller, and as we walked by my son explained to her in his teacher voice, “That’s where people go to die,” to which my daughter responded, “Yeah.” Pause. “I like juice.”

After the initial shock of the realization of death, my son became less sad and more curious. He was mostly interested in the practicalities of it – when he died, would he be able to move? Would he be able to see? He became very concerned about what would happen to his body. He did not like the idea of being buried. I told him that some people choose to be cremated and have their ashes scattered, usually in a special place like the ocean or a family home. He decided he would like to have his ashes scattered out of an airplane, which led to an interesting offhand comment he made to one of my friends during a playdate: “When I die, I’m going to get thrown out of an airplane!”

The intensity of the curiosity abated. Every so often he would say “I don’t want to die,” but it was a fleeting thought.

Then the other night, my daughter picked the book Lifetimes: The Beautiful Way to Explain Death to Children (affiliate link) for her bedtime book. We got this book when my son first started asking a lot of questions about death. It’s a lovely book. Its premise is that everything that is alive eventually dies, and what matters is the living in between. It goes through the life cycle of butterflies, trees, fish and even people. And yes – all of them eventually will die. We got a few pages into it when my son burst into tears. “But I don’t want to die!” he sobbed. “If I die, I won’t be able to see you, and I want to see you every day!”

I hugged him tight. I want to see him every day too. And for a long time, hopefully a very long time, we will. But there will be a day when we don’t. That night, though, I just held him close and said, “I know.” Then I had my daughter pick a different book, and I replaced half the words with “poop” and “toilet,” which made my son laugh and made my daughter annoyed because she wanted the real words. Balance was restored.

Since then, he has made a few mentions of it. Yesterday, sitting on my lap, he said he wanted to be a house, because houses weren’t alive and so they didn’t die. “But if you were a house,” I said, “you wouldn’t be able to laugh or hug or draw or do any of the things that make it so amazing to be alive.” He didn’t say anything, but a moment later he got off my lap, took out a piece of paper, carefully chose a red pencil, and started to draw.

12 responses to “It’s the Living in Between that Matters

  1. This sounds like a great book to help with a not-so-fun topic. Love their little reactions. I remember when I first realized all people eventually die, I did pretty much the same thing your son did. “I don’t want to die!” It sounds like you are making the most of your “living in between” with your kiddos. Thanks for sharing, cheers!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. What a lovely post – it’s a reality that is hard for all of us to face and I’m glad to hear there is a book that gently explains it in a positive way. Still, it sounds a little heartbreaking every time to try to comfort your son and those tears because is is something no one can fix.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Death is such a challenging topic, especially if you don’t have strong convictions about what happens afterwards (or if those convictions are that we simply end and there is no heaven). It sounds like you’ve handled your son’s questions and concerns with love and grace, though. I’ll be keeping this post in mind when my daughter reaches the age when she asks about death.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Great post! My daughter has been talking about death a lot lately–in sort of an off-hand way that bothers me a bit. Other than our cat who passed a few years ago, she hasn’t had to face death (and she was quite young at the time). However, my parents are elderly and my husband’s mother has been battling cancer for almost 8 years and, frankly, I don’t expect her to make it to the end of the year…so I will have to talk to my daughter and son about it in the near future. I will look into the book you listed….

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Wow, this was a hot topic for me, I had been crippled by a fear of dying since I was about 12 – panic and anxiety attacks that had only gotten worse as my children aged, therapy helped and was basically the same gist “focus on the living part” and that my parents’ answer to “I don’t want to die” wasn’t helpful.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Once again, a beautiful, sensitive and heart warming post, Ali. I will remember your thoughts when speaking with my grandchildren ….

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Sounds like we need to get that book. My son is almost four, and we’ve talked a lot about death during his short life. My mom passed away two and a half years ago, and we talk about her a lot to keep her memory alive. Our cat later passed away, and we recently took my son to visit my sister’s grave. I can tell he’s still trying to understand the concept, but he’s not yet sad about death. He just knows that I get sad when I’m missing Grammy a lot, which in turn makes him sad.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. what a sweet post and what a hard topic. i have the same fears as your son! hah! i need a story read to me about it too – definitely a hard topic to come to terms with as a child and often as an adult.

    Like

  9. What a wonderful post on such a sensitive topic. I have the same book as you- we got the recommendations in our support group for parents with infant loss. Death and all the topics bringing it with it , is a challenge. And I am deeply sorry for your loss.
    Julius is now 11 weeks and older son would be 2 years. I am glad we have a little time until we get to the topic. We talk in a normal way about his brother. We thought long about it how to integrate him, but if mom or dad would have some sorrow days- i want that my child knows that mom only thinks about his brother. Sure, it will be a tough time- but I think about every death- it is the best decision to guide them through it in the gentle way as you can.
    Beautfiul post and a brave mom.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m so sorry for your loss. I think it’s wonderful that you have thought so much about how to bring your experience with loss to your newborn in a such a loving and gentle way. Hugs to you.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s