Sunday, April 24, 2016

Lately Ash has been asking a lot of questions about dying, about what happens to our bodies when we die, and if we're reborn, will she have the same family? (Cue the tears: "But if I'm born again into another family, won't I forget that I ever had you?" which I thought was a pretty deep question for a six-year-old.) A while back when she was maybe 3 or 4, we told her that most people live a very long time, until they're about 100. But recently she learned that her Grandpa Lynn died at age 52 because he was very sick and now it seems that she's been seeking meaning to every song and even reading between the lines of lyrics. When she heard the song "Centuries", she asked Jeff how long a century was and then later on at bedtime she said that 100 years isn't long enough, that she doesn't want to die. I said, "But the whole point of life is to enjoy each moment, to make lasting memories, to love your family and spend time with your friends." She bawled, "But we only get oneeeeee..." When she heard the song "Seven Years" in the car the other day, she said "Mommy, you're not anywhere near 60, right?" Her little brain is trying to take in and process so much but it's *so hard* to answer all of her raw and honest questions when we don't have all of the answers. Half the time, I'm not even sure I'm saying the right thing or putting her mind anywhere near at ease.

And night after night, she's been having bad dreams. It seems like she just can't shake this from her subconscious. One night I went in there when she was crying and asked what's wrong. "I had a dream that Daddy was kissing us for the last time." "Where?" I asked. "In bed." Then, "Daddy believes you can be born again. What do you believe?" I told her that I'm not sure, but that I'd like to think our spirit can find its way back here to live again. That's when she uttered her heartbreaking, "But if I'm born again into another family, won't I forget that I ever had you? I don't want another mommy and daddy. I want youuuuuuuu...."). A few nights later she started crying shortly after she went to bed. I went in there and asked what was wrong. She started again with "I never got to meet my Grandpa Lynn." I told her that I'm sure he loves her and that he would love to have met her too. "But how do you know? Can he see me? Is he sitting right there?" Uggghhhhh. Then she said "I had a dream. Daddy came to pick us up and you weren't there. And then you never came back again." More crying. I said, "How did you know I never came back?" "Because you weren't there and then a week went by and you still weren't..." How do you reassure your kids without being dishonest? I mean, we all know that we can't promise them we'll be there tomorrow. We may SAY it, but no one really knows for sure what's going to happen each day. It just breaks my heart to see her so worked up about these issues that are so far out of her control.

I did some research online because of course I understand that kids are naturally curious about death and I expected to have the conversation at some point, but I guess I didn't think she would have *so* many questions. It seems like most kids ask a lot of basic questions but then quickly move on. Ashlyn, however, has one question after another: "What are our options when we die? What happens to our bodies? Did Grandma have to move after Grandpa died? What did they do with his body?" The saddest part was when she said "When you and Daddy are gone, the only one left with me will be Liam" and I had a lump in my throat because even that's not a given. I don't want to think about it, but the fact that he is younger doesn't necessarily mean he will be there when she's 100 and he's 97 (and I say that because I literally can't bear to think of them dying any younger than that). Parenting is hard enough, but when you are responsible for making your child feel safe and secure and you aren't successful, that is truly the worst. I wish I had the answers to make her little brain shut off each night. I wish I could tell her what happens when we die...where we go...that we are reunited with people that we love...that we never feel pain or sickness or hurt again...that we have the same mommy, daddy and brother in the next life, if there is one...that we are okay without our physical body because it's the spirit that truly makes us who we are. ("But if I am born into someone else, then I'm not really me? Or am I me, but a different version of me?") I swear, she blows me away. I almost feel like she has already lived a former life due to the depth of her questioning and her ability to ask and understand these concepts beyond her short time here on Earth.

I know we all want to protect our kids from the harsh reality of life. We want to save them from the first harsh comment or criticism from their peers, we want to shield them from the tough choices they will eventually have to make, we want to hug them and tell them that they are safe and sound and always will be. But we can't always promise these things. What we can do is hug them and say, "You know, I'm not really sure what will happen, but I love you so much and we are here together right now--let's make every day count." I'm just happy to know that she trusts me enough to want my opinion even when I tell her I don't have all the answers. I don't shut down the conversation or laugh off her concerns; I openly talk to her, stroke her hair and do the best I can to explain life and death as we know it. There is no script for this. I don't even remember asking my own parents about it (although when I did, I am almost positive it wasn't as in depth or emotional for me). I'm not sure if everything I say is right or accurate, but at least she knows she can come to me at any time, with any question or concern, and I will be there for her. We brought her into this world and it's our responsibility to explain how it works when we know and explain that a lot of the world is a mystery to us. I just hope that her life is full of enough joy to make the unknown worthwhile. And that's the only thing that I *can* control.