Damn, I wish we had a goldfish.

Many children experience death for the first time when the family pet dies. Goldie the goldfish is floating on his side, death is explained, tears are shed, Goldie goes on to the Great Fishtank in the Sky. Done. If you are the Huxtables, you have a full out funeral for Goldie!

This gradual peek into the reals of death and dying helps parents explain the processes and gives them the opportunity to help children walk the truncated steps of grief-before the family experiences the death of a human family member. 

Sometimes, you don’t get that primer on death. Sometimes, a beloved aunt who was vibrant and present just months before, dies suddenly. You don’t have time to lead up to why Auntie is sick and in the hospital. You don’t have time to visit the hospital while she’s gravely ill but still alive. There are no gradual steps to go from illness to death. It’s like you just slam headfirst into the brick wall of, “Auntie Died Today”.

I’m really struggling with this. While this is extremely jarring to me as a grown-up, it’s even harder trying to deal with grief while processing death with a child. The questions my daughter asks are so concrete, loving and honest. The answers I have available to give are so vague and esoteric. Even as a religious family, it’s just so hard to make this understandable. When she says, “We just need to give Auntie some good soup, then she’ll be better”, you just wish so badly to be able to exist in the delicious innocence that is childhood. But you can’t, and with each question I feel like I’m dragging her from that safe cocoon into the harshness of adulthood. 

 I’m allowing her to go to the wake. I’ve gotten push back about it from family. My daughter needs to see this through. It doesn’t make physical sense to her, never mind emotional or spiritual sense. We are making a card for Auntie. We will walk up to see Auntie. She can choose to leave the card with Auntie or keep it. I have no idea what to expect. We have an exit strategy. This experience will definitely cause more questions rather than fewer. Lord only knows what her questions will be, or how I’ll find the strength to answer them for her. At least she will be able to put the sequence of events together and “get” what it means to die. Maybe. 

Damn, I wish we had a goldfish.