My little monster, before he's turned 6, has had to deal with loss. His sister's grandfather, who was like his own, my grandfather and then his own grandparents. For a little boy, that's a lot.
As his mother it was upon me to figure out how to break the news each time. And how to help him cope. Not a big believer in God, I wanted to stay away from the convenient 'Bhagwan ji ke paas gaye hain.' At the same time, the finality of death seemed too large a concept to explain to a 4 year old who's lost someone he loved immensely.
I didn't want to tell him his Baba had gone to sleep. I saw my niece being told that, and saw her distress as she tried to wake him up. I didn't want my child to feel anxious every time a loved one went to sleep, thinking they may never wake up.
So it was, that I stayed as close to the truth as possible. I told him a story of how each of us comes on earth to do certain things. And when we have done them, when we have created all that we had to, loved and nurtured all those we had to, it is our time to return home, where we came from. When he asked if that was called death, I said yes. But death was not a bad thing, it was just the end of life. When he asked if I would also die, I said yes, someday. But not for a long, long time. And I told him that I would never leave him, because I am a part of him. As long as he lives, I will be his mother, I will live in his heart and his memories. As will the others he loved who have gone. And then I repeated this ad infinitum, every time he hugged me and cried, missing those who had gone, scared that I would leave one day too.
I did it again when my grandfather died. And I am doing it now after his grandparents have passed away. And each time he's had questions, some old, some new. Each time, I have answered them as truthfully as I can. Each time we have spoken about the things we will miss most about the person who's left, from the special chowmein they fed us every time we visited to the way they laughed.
That's they key I think, to acknowledge our children's grief. To know they will have anxiety around our deaths. To let them say everything they need to. To not protect them and shield them from reality, but to present it to them in the most relatable manner possible. And then to be ready to answer their endless questions gently and with love.
As his mother it was upon me to figure out how to break the news each time. And how to help him cope. Not a big believer in God, I wanted to stay away from the convenient 'Bhagwan ji ke paas gaye hain.' At the same time, the finality of death seemed too large a concept to explain to a 4 year old who's lost someone he loved immensely.
I didn't want to tell him his Baba had gone to sleep. I saw my niece being told that, and saw her distress as she tried to wake him up. I didn't want my child to feel anxious every time a loved one went to sleep, thinking they may never wake up.
So it was, that I stayed as close to the truth as possible. I told him a story of how each of us comes on earth to do certain things. And when we have done them, when we have created all that we had to, loved and nurtured all those we had to, it is our time to return home, where we came from. When he asked if that was called death, I said yes. But death was not a bad thing, it was just the end of life. When he asked if I would also die, I said yes, someday. But not for a long, long time. And I told him that I would never leave him, because I am a part of him. As long as he lives, I will be his mother, I will live in his heart and his memories. As will the others he loved who have gone. And then I repeated this ad infinitum, every time he hugged me and cried, missing those who had gone, scared that I would leave one day too.
I did it again when my grandfather died. And I am doing it now after his grandparents have passed away. And each time he's had questions, some old, some new. Each time, I have answered them as truthfully as I can. Each time we have spoken about the things we will miss most about the person who's left, from the special chowmein they fed us every time we visited to the way they laughed.
That's they key I think, to acknowledge our children's grief. To know they will have anxiety around our deaths. To let them say everything they need to. To not protect them and shield them from reality, but to present it to them in the most relatable manner possible. And then to be ready to answer their endless questions gently and with love.
