We had a death in the family this week. An Aunt on Don's side had a massive stroke last week. We knew she wouldn't make it, so there was some time to mentally prepare. Don's family rallied around to visit and be present with her during her last days. She was loved deeply by her both of her sister's children and their children. Don, his siblings and cousins always made time for their Tia Merce and her transition leaves a huge hole in the family fabric. The adults can cope with the grief and loss. But what about the little ones? How do I explain to a 3 1/2 and 5 1/2 about death? About the permanence of it?
Both of my girls loved their great Aunt Merce. We would try to visit when we could. We'd bring dinner and then visit for a bit. Last year a series of smaller strokes caused her to lose her ability to talk much. But words were not needed. When they saw their Aunt Merce, the girls would wrap their arms around her give her hugs and kisses. The light that would shine in Merce's eyes spoke more than words ever could. Amara and Havana loved picking lemons from her tree and Amara was always out looking for snails in the yard. Even when Merce was frail, they would climb up on her lap and lover her up. It was clear from her smile how much she loved them too.
The girls knew Aunt Merce was sick but at their young age, were not able to fully grasp what that really meant. And last week when things took a significant turn for the worse, I started to talk about her death. Amara has always been a child with a beyond normal curiosity and so that meant both Don and I answered her endless, repeated questions. Havana had a few of her own but mostly made statements like, "I don't want Aunt Merce to die. I want to her live forever" which was heart breaking to hear.
We went to the hospital the day before she passed. When we arrive both girls strongly expressed wanting to see Aunt Merce one last time. Don didn't think it was a good idea. He thought they might get scared. I shared with Don how when I was young I went to see my grandfather in the hospital and how that helped me in my goodbyes, how it brought some understanding that I would not see my precious grandfather again. This caused a shift in Don and we decided to let the girls see their aunt one last time. I didn't let the girls get too close. They didn't need to see all the tubes and machines. One at a time, I took them to the door of her small room and held them up. Havana was very clear, "I want to see her face" and when she did she was satisfied. "I am ready to go back to the other room now." I left confident that brought some closure for Havana.
Amara was a little more vocal about her feelings. She was scared but curious. She took in everything (and later told me about the machines and tubes I tried to shield her from-it's amazing what the kid notices in a mere two minutes) and as we walked away declared that "She looks like she died already." That statement opened the door to explain to Amara that her aunt was not herself anymore, that she was suffering and that her aunt and no one that loved her wanted her to live like that. But she also had questions about what happens to your body. Havana wanted to know this too. During the drive home, we talked about the soul leaving the body. Which lead to Havana's question, "Where does the body go then?" and so I went on to explain about the burial or cremation of a body, depending on the wishes or beliefs of the individual that passed. When the girls saw Don again later that night Havana asked him right away, "Papa are they going to put Aunt Merce in the fire and let her burn?" I had to explain cremation a bit more after that. (and, "No" we told them. Aunt Merce was going to be buried.)
Each person has their own belief system about death. If you subscribe to a religious orientation than you may present that religion's take on death. I am not religious. Spiritual but not religious so I talked with the girls about what I know or what I think happens.
I explained to the girls, that it is my understanding when someone dies, their soul leaves their body and goes in a space (the Bardo in Buddhism) where any healing that needs to happen can occur. It is there that the soul moves toward the Light or Oneness of All Creation. I explained how some call it heaven but that sometimes the soul can land again in another body if it is ever ready or needing to do so. We call it the Cosmos. I explained that before we are born we are in the Cosmos and after we die we are in the Cosmos. I am not sure they fully get it but about a day later, on some PBS cartoon, a character (surprisingly), mentioned "The Cosmos", which I thought was perfect timing. It wasn't related to death but I think hearing that phrase made things more relatable.
As the week progressed, I made sure to check in with the girls. I am conscious not to overwhelm them or to make leading statements about their feelings. Just inviting ones like the other day when I asked, "Have you been thinking about Aunt Merce?" To which I have been amazed how their responses. Amara is especially articulate; "Sometimes I think about her. Sometimes I don't. But when I think about her, I feel sad." Havana, after listening to her sister, responded with a simple, "Me too." I validated their feelings, they said a few more things and were done.
Not having For Sure answers can be tough. Seeing the girls sad and struggling to understand death has been hard but I think that just being present for them and validating their experience and giving them the space to talk if needed is working best. It's sad that they have to experience death so early but dying is a part of life. An unplanned part of life. I just hope we are doing the best for them as they learn about death and come to understand and cope with it on their terms.
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