What I tell My Kids About Death

What you tell your kids about death is an incredibly personal decision, based on years of contemplation, religious and spiritual beliefs, and experiences. Charden is my oldest, and she's four. She has had a couple of experiences with death, at the age of three.

Clementine

Clementine was our overweight, diabetic cat. She was a sweetheart, don't get me wrong, but pretty much completely useless. She also had an allergy to plastic. That's right, plastic. And when Charden was born, the plastic that our house contained multiplied by the millions. Baby toys EVERYWHERE. Plastic legs on the bassinet, plastic legs on the high chair, plastic rattles and walkers and you get the picture. Anywhere that Clementine rubbed against plastic, a sore would break out and turn into a giant scab. To save you the disgusting picture that I could easily paint for you, I will make a long story short. Hundreds of dollars and many vet trips later, we discovered the source of her allergy, and she began a series of steroid shots. From that point on, any time she would have an outbreak, she would get a shot, which lead to maybe 6-8 shots a year. We were warned that so many shots may give her diabetes, and it did, starting twice daily insulsin shots. When she was 8 years old, and Charden was three, she began to pee on everything, and that was the end. We decided to put her to sleep, for she was just too sick. I really thought this was going to lead to a HUGE melt down from Charden. I wondered how I was going to explain death to her? She's only three! I'm not a Christian, so I couldn't just throw the old “Heaven and the beautiful paradise of the after life” at her, because I simply don't believe in it. So I braced myself to tell her, hoping to come up with the answers magically when she asked them.

Me: “Charden, I had to put Clementine to sleep. That means that she is dead.”

Charden: “Why?”

Me: “Because she was just too sick. Sometimes when a pet gets really sick, it's best to put her to sleep.”

Charden: “I'm going to miss her.”

The End.

There may have been a few “I miss Clementine!” statements since then, but that was it. No tears, no difficult questions about where we go after we die. Nothing. Awesome.

Sea Monkeys

A few months after Clementine died, Charden's grandma (Who will be forever from now on referred to as “Mimi”), bought Charden a Sea Monkey kit. I'll admit, I was probably just a little bit more excited about this experience than Charden was. I bought the distilled water, and we hatched them. They grew, and Charden watched with wonder for about 3 days, and then pretty mush lost interest. There was one sea moneky, however, who was particularly awesome. He was a biggin, and had a mustache to boot. We affectionately named him Larry. So, probably about two months into being Sea Monkey owners and adorers, I attempted to change the water, because it was getting nasty in there. In so doing, I effectively killed every last one. Even poor Larry. I didn't tell Charden (perhaps, mistake number one). She noticed the missing tank rather quickly, so I began to explain. I reflected on the experience with Clementine, and I figured it would follow that path. Hell no. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Me: “Charden, your sea monkeys died. I'm really sorry.

Charden: “What? WHY?!!!!!”

Me: Ok... this isn't going as I had expected.... “Because they were sick.”

Charden: “WHAT?! WHY?!!!! I WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF THEM!! THEY WERE MINE AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF THEM! WHERE ARE THEY???? WHEN ARE THEY COMING BACK??”

Me: “Umm...”

Charden: “LARRRRRYYYY! LARRRRRYYYYY! I LOVED THEM I WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF THEM!!! IT WAS MY JOB!!! WHERE ARE THEY?!!!!!!!!!!”

Me: Oh shit.

This outburst contained GIANT tears and sobs for days on end. I even rushed her out to the pet store THAT DAY to by a new Betta fish (who she fondly named Larry, and is still with us today).

So what do you tell your kids about death? I am a Buddhist atheist, which really makes the question difficult. I envy Christians, because the idea of Heaven is just a beautiful one, and a great way to tell your kids about death. Unfortunately, I do not believe in Heaven. So what do I believe? I'm not really sure. Reincarnation is definitely something I have thought about rather extensively, and is at the forefront of my beliefs on death. I think it is a possibility. (I also think that Heaven is a possibility, just not probable in my mind). I tried to explain to Charden that her sea monkeys are “everywhere, all around us.” Her little three-year-old mind definitely didn't grasp that concept. So I kept that conversation simple. “The sea monkeys are gone. They died. They don't exist anymore. They are not coming back.” She cried a lot, but eventually stopped asking where they were and when they were coming back.

I have made the decision to not tell my kids anything about death. As Charden gets older, and I can see the little wheels turning in her head, I encourage her to come up with her own ideas about death (and life and religion and spirituality). And I think this is the key to raising smart, self-aware, moral and free-thinking human beings. I will of course guide her (and my other two daughters) in morality and what is right and wrong. I certainly will not tell her that God is real or not real, that Heaven exists or doesn't exist. She can come up with her own conclusions, as I was allowed to do as I was growing up (thanks Mom and Dad!).

So recently, out of nowhere while eating dinner Charden asked: “Mommy, what happens when we die?” I answered with, “What do you think?”

“I think we become babies.”

...and I think she may be right. And totally amazing.

Clementine and Baby Charden, having a face-off