Pondering the imponderable.

You want to talk about death, again, but your mother's not into it.

Lately death is staring you in the face at every turn. You look down, and there's a deceased earthworm baking on the sidewalk. Look up, and WHAPPO, your cat just murdered a fly. You go for a drive with your mom, and there's another cemetery, on your left. That's where all the people go to die.

"Not to die," your mother says. "Those people were dead when they got there."

"What got them dead?" you want to know.

"They were very old and very sick," she says.

"How old? Grandma old?" You bite your lip.

"Nonononono. Older. Much, much older. Hey, look at that funny guy doing that, uh, thing!"

What funny guy? What thing? You can't see from the car seat. What were we talking about, again?

Die, death, dying, dead, you hear it all the time, it pops out of conversations, like your name. "You're killing me," your mom says to your dad. That's an expression. She won't die yet. On the television they're killing each other but then they bounce right back up. Your grandma's friend dies. You tell her, "I'm sorry your friend is dead. I hope she gets better." After a little rest, you think, she'll stand back up. So why do they bury people?

You keep asking your mom, but something happens and you don't get the answer, or at least not the right answer. You say "even when I die" a lot, testing it out. "I will always love you," you say to your best friend, "even when I die." Your friend gives you a funny look, or maybe that's just his face. After a day at the beach, you tell your mom that you will always love the ocean. "Even when I die," you add. Your mom mutters something.

"I want my grave to be in the ocean," you say. "I want to be buried on a surfboard."

"Wow," your mom says, "you really DO love the ocean."

"And maybe your grave can be in the ocean, too, and we can be buried facing each other so we're kissing, because I will always love you—"

"Oh boy," your mom says.

"—even when I die," you get out.

"Can we not talk about death right now?" your mom asks. "No one's dead, no one's dying, we're all here, let's talk about something else. Okay?"

"But someday," you say.

"Someday, but not now. Not for a long, long time."

So: not now. But someday. And what then?

Comments

[elfini]

Exactly! What then?!!

I think I'll go back to bed now.

[Antonia]

God, you're a good writer. But enough about you. Highgate Cemetery in London is a fantastically ramshackle, enormous place of death. It was the hip place to be buried in the nineteenth century and is host to what's left of Karl Marx, Douglas Adams, George Eliot, Christina Rossetti and other stiffs.

We visited last year and noticed that "Fell asleep" was a popular euphemism for "Died" on many of the Victorian gravestones. Or perhaps if you fell asleep in the wrong company, they buried you alive? Seems a bit unreasonable. Just in case, we left hastily before anyone in our party showed signs of tiring.

[Susannah]

Funny how your posts often track what my son talks about next. Lately there has been a lot about poop and death (separately) in our conversations. What's next? Thank you for your wonderful insights and thoughts and your honesty.

[Joe]

Great post Alice. We've been there with our kids also. You captured very well the fear/obsession/mind boggling concept that is the child's view of death. Mine too, come to think of it.

[Rae]

Wow. Facing each other on surfboards. That's beautiful. And sad. And choppy!

[urban urchin]

oh my, the facing each other kissing. My heart just shattered into a bazillion little pieces...

[Gray Matter]

We're Jewish and there's no "official" stance on the after life. I told my son that our bodies are like containers for our souls so when we die, our bodies go into the ground to return to the earth, but our souls come back to live new lives. Cut to him going through a drawer and finding his "5" candle from his birthday cake. I said, "Oh, we should throw that out," and he said, "No, I'm going to use when I'm 5 again."

[Marcheline]

Hugs to Gina.

[Mauigirl]

Wonderful post. It must be really hard to deal with discussions like that. I'm kind of like Julie - I like her phrase about living her life "with death sitting on my left shoulder." I don't think there's a day that goes by that I don't think of death at least once, and about how fast our lives go by. Maybe I was always morbid like that; I had a sister who died when I was only 2-1/2 but I remember her, and I remember answering grown-ups who asked if I was an only child, "Yes, but I had a sister who died." So I always understood what it meant. Someone existed and then didn't exist anymore. It's a hard concept for any of us to understand, but it must be hardest when you're a child and realize it for the first time.

[gwendomama]

this is tough stuff, alice. i don't envy you. i have lived that. and still am to some extent.i am sorry that your child is so smart that he will brazenly root through your sensitivities and challenge you to meet them head-on.my daughter wanted to play 'dead baby' 5x/day after her 1 yo brother died. as if i didn't have enough to deal with (getting out of bed each day, dressing myself, dressing my daughter, feeding her, continuing to breathe! oh, the drudgery!) my daughter wanted to talk about death A. LOT. to everyone. there were some (other preschoolers' parents) who did not appreciate this.but sometimes i listened to her talk about it when she wasn't asking questions that i couldn't answer.she had some very interesting ideas.did you know that you get to live on a cloud after you die? its true, and if your sister is very very considerate, she will draw you pictures and put them in the driveway where you can SEE them.

[silvermine]

Oh, I love you all. It's so nice to hear other people have kids as freaky as mine.

My son has been obsessed with death for a year, ever since a pet died (he's 4.5 now). He has also consoled himself by finding religion (we're agnostic) and also believing in reincarnation. I'm not sure how you do both -- perhaps he'll end up reincarnated as a pokemon in heaven.

[Sue]

My 4 year old daughter always want me to tell her about how my dad died. It happened before she was born. She's fascinated. She's still trying to understand what it means, where he went, what would happen if she died... It shouldn't be disconcerting, but it still is.

[WonderDonna]

This post spoke to me and I don't even have children. Beautifully written, Alice.

[Bokker]

When my sister died, our 4-year-old cousin was very preoccupied with trying to work it all out. We just answered all his questions as frankly as we could. It's amazing how much they understand though. My sister's death closely followed our great-granny's death, and my little cousin came out with: "it's sad that great granny died isn't it? But not as sad as Helen dying". To appreciate at that age that a 96 year old passing away is sad but not as tragic as losing a 16 year old, showed a deep level of understanding. He would also say simple things like "are you still sad?" and then when I nodded, would climb onto my lap for a cuddle. Little children are pretty wise.

[sari]

someone told me to check out your blog-and finally I had time to sit down a read some of your posts. I don't get it-you are more annoying than anything. you are nothing more than a boring housewife that thinks that being snarky on a blog is a big deal. get a clue-do something meaningful with your time. you act like some Hollywood celeb or something. ick-pure trash-my brain feels like mush now. the people that read your crap daily and are "dear readers" are total losers as well-ALL of you need to get a freaking clue.

[braine]

Wow, sari, looks like whomever told you to read this blog is the real asshole, huh?

[Julie Martin]

Absolutely. What could be more dreary than a brilliant woman who dispenses gratis great writing and laser wit? Finslippy is no patch on Funniest Home Videos.

Luckily, I can bring our dissenting commenter back into the thread: sari = flowing = scarf = Isadora.

[Diane]

Man, who lit the fuse on Sari's tampon?

[Vikki]

We have had to get really comfortable with death. I can now listen to my 6 year old tell me for the 30th time that he wants to be cremated without knocking on wood or stopping the car and buying him an ice cream cone to change the subject.

[Lisa C]

My girl had the fascination, trepidation, horror thing about death, too. It was freaky to me, and I didn't know how to answer her questions. I just felt her heart-felt pain and confusion about it all. Best wishes with your brilliant little guy.Lisa

[Lisa C]

My girl had the fascination, trepidation, horror thing about death, too. It was freaky to me, and I didn't know how to answer her questions. I just felt her heart-felt pain and confusion about it all. Best wishes with your brilliant little guy.Lisa

[Jenna]

With you driving around on the GSP all the time, no wonder he's preoccupied with death;)

[dmom]

My two girls play a very morbid game of hide-n-go-seek crossed with tag, whereby one has to find the other because they're dead. The first time they played it it freaked me out but now...it's okay...sort of.Whenever we face a difficult converstion I ask myself if I want my kids to learn from me or the world, invariably I win so I take a deep breath and talk. So far it's worked...ask me again in a few years when we hit the sex talk!!!!Parenthood...it's good times! {:o)