“I want a tombstone with words on it, okay? Promise me it will have writing so that people can remember me,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks and pooling in the colorful pillowcase beneath her head.
My oldest child is just two weeks away from her 11th birthday, and she shouldn’t be contemplating the details of her own funeral. With a bright personality, a sharp sense of humor, and an enthusiasm for pop stars like Taylor Swift, she has recently developed a growing fixation on death. It seems to be one of those unexpected emotional developments that often accompany puberty. Reflecting on my own upbringing, I realize that many of the anxieties I faced as a child are now surfacing in my own parenting journey.
In today’s world, where tragic news flashes across our screens around the clock, discussions about death are unavoidable. I try to manage my news consumption, but it’s challenging to shield my children from the harsh realities of life. Not having all the answers about death feels much more pressing than other parenting dilemmas, like convincing a toddler to eat broccoli.
My own preoccupation with mortality started when I was about her age, largely fueled by fears of losing loved ones rather than contemplating my own end. My parents’ impending divorce was still years away, but I was already haunted by the fear of abandonment. I vividly recall hearing the story of a mother who harmed her children—an incident that left a lasting imprint on my young mind. I can’t help but empathize with my daughter’s worries.
Her questions have propelled me into discussions about faith, the afterlife, and whispered promises of “please don’t leave me.” “Do you believe in Heaven, Mom?” she asked, her voice trembling with urgency.
“I believe something happens after we pass—parts of us carry on,” I replied, searching for the right words.
“But how? What do you call it? Is it Heaven?”
I hesitated, weighing the balance between providing hope and encouraging false beliefs. We don’t attend church, and I haven’t introduced my daughters to biblical stories, nor do I feel equipped to do so. “I believe that when we die, we find peace and return to our happiest moments,” I told her.
“When were you happiest? Was it before I was born? How will we reconnect?” Her sobs became more intense.
“All I know is that sometimes, during my day, I can feel Grandpa’s presence. I hear his voice, remember his laughter, and that makes me feel he’s not entirely gone. Does that make sense?” I asked, hoping to provide some comfort.
“Grandma says Buddha believes in reincarnation. What if I’m reborn into another family? How will I find you?”
I smiled gently, “Sweetheart, we’re not Buddhist.”
“But truly, Mom, how will you find me?” She looked at me with an earnestness that made me wish I had a foolproof answer.
“I would recognize you anywhere. Just like when artists cover songs, you can still hear the original melody. It’ll be like that; we’ll know each other’s unique tunes.”
She took a shaky breath, nodding slightly. “Here’s what I can offer, dear girl. I strive daily to care for myself and impart wisdom that will remain with you. Remember how I say it’s my role to equip you to make choices when I’m not by your side? That’s my hope.”
“But what if I die before you? How will I find you? What should I do?” Tears filled my eyes as I faced her sincere fear. “I don’t know.”
Her eyes widened, “So what do we do? How do we know?” She was distraught, and I felt my heart ache.
I caressed her face, kissing her shoulder softly. “We treasure every moment and tuck them away in our hearts. Our shared ‘I love yous’ and the laughter we create become a guiding light as we grow. You won’t ever be lost,” I assured her.
“I just want to be remembered and not feel lonely,” she confessed.
“I don’t want you to feel lonely either, my love.” We held one another tightly, tears flowing, the question lingering unanswered between us.
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In summary, navigating conversations about mortality with children can be challenging but necessary. By providing comfort and fostering a sense of connection, we can help them cope with their fears in a loving and supportive way.
Keyphrase: Talking to Tween About Mortality
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