"When are you gonna die?"
When talking about death, one of the biggest gifts we can offer our kids is not knowing with them.
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Dear Mama Mama,
My Grandma died a few months ago. My 4-year-old has been preoccupied with death ever since - he asks when we will die, if we will be old. He announces his sister will die soon. I struggle to know how to talk about it. It’s overwhelming, and I don’t know what to say to him. How honest should I be about how much we don’t know with such a little kid?
GB
Dear GB,
It feels like your question catapulted right to the center of my heart. It’s really a thing to sit with the big questions about being human with our little humans. I want to take a moment to acknowledge that you are trying to figure this out with your kid during a time that is probably pretty tender. Even if it was expected, your family is reorienting to life without your grandma here in a body. There is intergenerational impact and shifting as one generation moves to being the oldest.
This is a humbling question even though I know this space well. Our kids talk about death daily. Professionally, I care for dying and grieving people and teach about how to talk about these things. And yet. When my kid wakes up, bright-eyed and curious asking (in both a matter of fact and lighthearted way) do you think we will die today, I fluctuate from speechless, to overly verbose with a sprinkle of just enough superstition to think…. does he know something I don’t?
I think one of the biggest gifts we can offer our kids is not knowing with them. We live in a culture that pushes knowing, having answers, being sure. This is just one of those spaces where we don’t know. And we can’t really fake that and be a reliable grown-up for our kids because at some point, our sureness will be wrong. This is a muscle we build. At first, it may feel pretty intolerable. Like how do I look my precious child in the eyes and say, “I hope you are really old when I die, and one of the things about being human is we just don’t know”. Isn’t this exposing them to too much? I’m sure there is an argument there. For me, the risk of being assured in this space is just too big. I want my kids to start to develop the capacity to be with this fundamental part of being alive now. Just in little doses, in response to the questions they bring me. I want them to know that I will figure out how to be in it with them, to be that vulnerable, that real.
There are a few concrete things I keep in mind when talking to my kids about death:
I don’t push it away, I make sure they know I want to hear their questions even if I don’t have answers: “you are thinking about this so much these days, I’m so glad you bring me your questions”.
I share a hope not a promise - I hope I am really old when I die.
I don’t use metaphor. When my kid asks what happens when you die, I stick to talking about the body. This is something I know about - how bodies stop working. I don’t have a belief about what happens when we die so I don’t offer that to them. This will be different for all of us.
I don’t talk about going to sleep and I explicitly use the word death and die versus pass or passing. We all need to and have to sleep every day. For a little kid imagination, the idea that someone is sleeping (a surprisingly common euphemism for death) is confusing or scary. Night time can be an angsty place anyway - I don’t want to add to that. I also don’t know how to explain what “passing away” means in this context. It’s never made sense to me. The biggest point here is that you want to use language that makes sense to you so that you are comfortable answering the (possibly many) questions like what does that mean? Why? How do you know?
I follow their lead. It’s very common that my kid asks a loaded question, I give a response and then he’s like “wanna play Monsta now?” I go with it. He asked his question, I responded and now he’s saying he’s full or good for now. I really try to trust that.
Ok ok so here’s the last thing and maybe the biggest thing. This is very hard to hold with our kids if we can’t hold it with ourselves or with other adults. Maybe that’s a place to start. Maybe you need more time as you adjust to the death of your grandma before you dive deep with your kid. Maybe there is a way to buy time while you feel into your own thoughts and relationship to this big old looming friend (!?) named mortality. We need a there there. A place within ourselves to extend from. Probably nobody did the thing I think you want to do for your babe for you - looked you deep in your eyes and said “Gosh kid, I love you so much and I hope I am so old when I die. I am right here with you now, with no plans for anything else.”
Can you imagine?
Looking at you,
Mama Mama
Ps - Trust your gut. You used the word preoccupation. 4 is a very common time for kids to get quite focused on death with earnest attempts at figuring something out in this space. If it feels like your kid is stressed or showing signs of anxiety that are unusual for them or distressing to you, find someone to talk. You don’t have to do this alone. Almost all hospice agencies have free grief support for community members and it may be your kid would benefit from space to process your grandma's death more explicitly.
In case you’ve missed it — check out the latest from The Most:
I don't have children but I still got so much from this wisdom. <3
My youngest has been fixated on death since we euthanized my elderly dog just after Thanksgiving. Whenever the subject of us not having a dog anymore is even indirectly touched upon, she immediately jumps to how sad she is since he died and we need another dog so she won't be sad. It's hard because I understand where she is coming from, wanting to fill the emptiness, but we can't get another dog at the moment. Logistically, it would make our life difficult. But also, I don't know if my heart can survive another loss like that.