My husband’s Aunt Judy passed away last week, early on Good Friday. It was the same time I imagine Christ would have been praying in the Garden of Gethsemane.
It was perfect. Judy is a loyal military veteran who has been following his passion for the past few years, starting with a house fire that left him with third-degree burns (he was already disabled). A deep sense of peace filled her church during her funeral Mass, which was interrupted by cries of joy and hunger emanating from her 13 grandnieces and her nephew.
My daughter’s question was simple, but by no means simple.
why did she die? When will she come back to life? can she talk? Does she have boo boos?
I recently heard that some parents refuse to take their young children to wakes and funerals for fear that the sight of death will traumatize them. These parents are likely trying to avoid pain for themselves, and questions about the end of life can be just as awkward as questions about the beginning of life.
Delaying the truth comes with risks. After all, the most curious young minds will always find the answers they’re looking for somewhere. Christian parents know all too well how unreliable these other sources of information are.
I think we have a duty to educate our children about the first and last thing before the world blinds them with shame, vilification, and denial. Of course, this requires that we ourselves see life and death as more than just raw materials and machines. Death is more than just a heart stopping beating. Childbirth is more than just insemination, pregnancy, and childbirth, but it’s much more than that.
My oldest son (age 3), without being prompted, became interested in Judy’s mechanics and metaphysics of death. And her straightforward but far from simple questions rarely fit so neatly into either box.
why did she die? When will she come back to life? can she talk? Does she have boo boos?
We tried to provide honest answers and explain the intricacies that she could understand. Her husband and I explained that Judy’s death was due to her heart failing, but we also thought of her death as a temporary separation of her body and soul. This led us to take a long detour into angels and why they don’t have bodies. Even though it was meandering, she seemed entranced.
We told her that death is not bad, even though it is sad. Everyone dies, but we are not afraid of death. Because it means we are one step closer to meeting our beloved Creator. More importantly, God loves us.
Towards the end, she wondered what colors there would be in heaven. I told her it was all her favorites, plus some she had never seen before.
