Hi. This weekend is full of fun with a small birthday party here and Easter tomorrow. This comes on the tail of two Purim parties last week. We are an interfaith family so there's lots of holidays--lots of partying.

Anyway, Christine from Mommy Matters wrote this beautiful post describing a discussion she recently had with her daughter about death. I know how she felt because we've been having those conversations this year. One of the first real posts (the earlier posts were from my journal) I wrote here was my first discussion about death with Rachel. This was followed by two other conversations. Since I'm so busy this weekend, and I don't think anyone was reading my blog then (other than my wonderful mother-in-law and my sister) I'm going to repost the "Truth about Dying" series here. Happy Easter to those who are celebrating it tomorrow.

Part I (February 2)

Several months ago I was tucking Rachel into bed and settled in to "talk about the day." It was holiday season and my mother was staying with us. Rachel started asking me about my mom. Is she really still your mom? And then, still troubled, she turned to the topic of my dad, "Grandpa Jerry," who had died before Rachel was born. "But where's your Daddy." We had never really spelled out death to her. I mean, I'm not one to crash something down on someone's world unless I'm asked about it. We had talked about him, and how he was in heaven, but never really explained the concept of heaven (like I understand it?!). Every once in a while she'd make a comment about seeing Grandpa Jerry somewhere, like the day she told me she thought she saw Grandpa Jerry at her Dad's work. It was clear the "heaven" discussion-or lack of discussion- had left her confused. We have the DVD of Charlotte's Web and Rachel was taken by Wilbur's emotional line "I don't want to die." She'd say it dramatically every now and then not knowing what it meant, but clearly intriqued, and concluding, logically, that it was not something one wanted to do. Now here she was, digging for the truth, suspecting she might know it, wanting it all straightened out.

"But, where is your Daddy?"

I paused. And then I used the "D" word.

"He died."

"Am I ever going to see him again?"

I paused. She wanted to end the confusion. "No."

And then she started softly crying, "But that means I only have one grandpa."

I was blown away. It was dark. I sat thinking about what to say next. I talked briefly about being able to talk to him and he would listen, but it didn't seem to be the right thing to say at the time so I kept it brief. She needed to mourn and it was so natural and profound and I felt strangely awkward witnessing it because my own mourning had not come so gracefully and automatically.

After this she was preoccupied by death for a while. For example, one night she was happily taking a bath and then blurted out suddenly "Mom, I wish you could come back after you die." and then continued playing. Another night in her room she suddenly burst out,while trying to pick ou clohtes, "I don't want to die, I like my clothes." And she suddenly developed separation anxiety again and had major trauma when I had to leave the house at night for a meeting or a movie, fearing I wouldn't come back.

I'm sure this is all explained in a chld psychology textbook somewhere. But it was pretty heavy stuff here.

We love you Grandpa Jerry. I wish you could come back, too.

Part Two (February 10)
Rachel is starting to dig deepr on this death issue...but this time a little more lightheartedly. I was driving her to school last week when she suddenly asked, "Where was Grandpa Jerry when he died?" "Did he say good-bye to Grandma Pat?"

I just couldn't answer that question in that situation. To tell her that his heart stopped in a bathroom after taking a shower and no he did not say good-bye to Grandma Pat was pretty harsh stuff to lay on a child two minutes before dropping her off to school.

So, despite her insistence on getting an answer, I suggested we talk about happier things about Grandpa Jerry right then. I told her we'd look at pictures later and I'd tell her some stories.

Part Three (February 12)
When I put Rachel to bed tonight she chose to have me tell her a story rather than "talk about the day." I asked her what kind of story she wanted. I was all set to to tell a story about when I was three, which is the direction these story-time sessions have been going, but she wanted a sad story. She wanted to hear about when Grandpa Jerry died. I looked at her and asked, "Are you sure that's what you want to talk about?" She said yes. I asked again, "Are you sure?" Then she hestitated a little so I suggested we talk about Grandpa's life first. I jumped up, went into my filing cabinet and came out with a book/magazine my mom had published about him after he died, it had pictures of him growing up, pictures with us, and lots of letters from people who wrote about him after his death. She really enjoyed it and asked about all of the pictures. I didn't want to give her the publication because it was fragile and the only one I had. I gave her a copy of the funeral program with a xeroxed copy of his picture on the front, but she kept asking if he was dying when he took that picture (perhaps because it was fading?) Therefore, I didn't think it was the most appropriate picture for her to keep, so I ran and got a framed picture of him with me when I was a baby. She wasn't satisfied at all and seemed upset. In the end it became clear that she wanted to own the book about him. I told her she could borrow the book for a few days, but I'd take it back and put it in a special place. She started crying. I thought this was odd because she loves to borrow things from me and give them back. Anyway, after a lot of conversation it was clear that she deeply wanted this book. I called my mom, asked her if she had another one, and put her on the phone with Rachel so she could explain to Rachel that she would send me another book and Rachel could keep that one. Rachel was very subdued when listening to my mom and talked in a small, emotional voice. And when she got off the phone, she said emotionally, in a tiny voice, "I'm very happy now."

When I was thinking about it later, I realized that perhaps the reason it was so important to her to own the book rather than borrow it was because she wanted to have a piece of him. Just as we all had.

While we were looking at the book Rachel asked me if Grandpa Jerry was sad before he died. I explained that he died very quickly and didn't know he wasn't going to die and therefore he wasn't sad. She then added that Grandma Pat and I were sad, though. I said, yes.

We didn't get much more deeply into the concept of death, but I did tell her that sometimes peoples bodies get so hurt that God takes them up to heaven so they don't have to hurt anymore and he can take care of them.

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