"Did Monty give you that heart?"
"Sort of, yes."
"It's shiny. Can I kiss it?"
"Yes."
"It's small. Can I cuddle it?"
"Monty was small and yes, you can."
"Monty was born."
"Yes, he was born and he died."
"I'm sorry Monty died."
"Me too. I wanted to bring him home."
"I'm sorry he didn't come home."
"You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart, but it's OK to feel sad. I feel sad about Monty. Daddy feels sad about Monty."
"I'm sorry he didn't come home."
Big cuddle.
Thank you for sharing this conversation. Things like the recent Boston Marathon disaster make me wonder how much my children comprehend death, how I am supposed to explain such things to them (I chickened out and we haven't talked about it). Your insights into how E deals with your family bereavement give me an odd measure of peace that if something terrible happened, I could help my children understand.
ReplyDeleteWe were advised to wait for her to ask questions and then answer them honestly and simply. One question she asked me later ("but where is he?") was much harder to answer. I said "He's not really anywhere but he's in our hearts because we loved him, in our minds because we think about him, and in the photos so we can look at him and remember him."
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