Don't Fear the Reaper

"When people die, they turn into dirt."

This from Sophie, nearly every day for the last several. When I pick her up at preschool tomorrow, I'm going to find out what book it is that they've been reading that talks about this; not a story, she tells me but a "learning book." It's a very matter-of-fact declaration and it's usually out of the blue, unattached to anything else we're talking about at the time.

I can't argue her point, and in fact it's lead us into some very interesting discussions about death and what might or might not come after. We talked about body and spirit, and the different beliefs that people have - reincarnation, heaven, the void - and I stressed to her that nobody KNOWS what waits for us after we die, and that if they say they do it just means that they hold their beliefs very strongly. All this, of course, while keeping in mind that she's just shy of five, and that in the next moment we're likely to be talking about her recent obsession with finding Waldo.

This isn't the first time that she and I have had conversations about death; I'm beginning to wonder if I have a future goth in the making but for the fact that she'd much rather wear pink than black. (Maybe though, pink is the new black...) A few months back she was talking a lot about my dad: "Your dad died. That was sad." And when my grandpa passed away in November (the day after the election... yeah, it was a dark week), both kids attended the visitation and funeral.

It was their first direct experience with the death of someone they knew and loved, and they were both very upset when they heard the news. We talked about what to expect at the funeral beforehand so they wouldn't be surprised. Good thing too; Sophie's first question, after we drew the comparison between a casket and a sarcophagus (since we had read a book about mummies not long before) was whether great-grandpa would be all wrapped up in white cloth. She was a little disappointed when I told her no and explained that we don't really DO mummies in southeast Michigan.

They both did great; I think it helped that grandpa was in his eighties and had been sick for awhile, so while there was sadness it wasn't the deep keening grief that unexpected or untimely loss brings. We've also tried very hard not to burden them with the fear of death that pervades our culture... when we talk about it, we acknowledge the sadness and the missing but we also talk about the natural cycle, that all living things have their time on the earth and then die.

Sophie's interest is certainly developmentally appropriate... it's clearly a subject she's trying to get her head around and although her timing seems random to me, I'm sure there's a train of thought I'm just not privy to. The only time it ever rattled me was when she said something along the lines of "What if Nathan and me died?" My mind can't even touch the edges of that one, so all I managed to squeak out was "I would be very very sad, but it's not going to happen for a very long time."

She thought for a minute. "Mom?"

"Yes?" Wondering if thoughts of her own mortality are sinking in, waiting for more difficult questions.

"Max kicked me in the stomach today. But Lisa says karate is NOT for hurting people."

The train moves on.