(I wrote this on 2/7 but was too busy crying to finish it and post!)
This morning last year I was holding my mom’s hand and watching the life slip out of her.
If it wasn’t so heartbreaking you would almost think it was uneventful.
Something we’ve seen a thousand times on TV and in the movies – sullen family members surrounding a hospital bed in a dim sterile white room with monitors beeping and flashing at random intervals.
If I close my eyes I can feel her hand and the smooth texture of her skin, as my thumb rubbed back and forth on her wrist.
Waiting.
I was thinking that this was the last time I would be in the room with my mom.
That the sound of her laugh would be a memory.
I was wondering how I could cook a meal without calling her with ten questions during the process.
There were are so many things I wanted to ask her.
And I was still hoping for a miracle.
Brad and I had been at the hospital in LA for 36 hours straight and our amazing friends were juggling our kids’ school schedules and naps and baths and everything. Actually, I wouldn’t even know if our friends were with my kids during that time. I mean, I was so checked out, they could have tossed cheerios on the floor and locked them in the house.
My mom left this earth, and we left the hospital.
The long ride home we were talking about how we were going to tell the children.
My mom was a big part of their lives. I still remember her last visit to my house just a few days before she fell and how they ran to the door to meet her.
How would we explain they could never run to meet her on earth again?
Would they… could they, even comprehend?
How long will it take them to forget her?
Brad and I decided we wanted to tell them outside the house so there wouldn’t be any distractions. We would go on a local hiking trail and have a picnic. We stopped off at Jack in the Box for breakfast food (pancakes – they are a buck for 8 and my kids love them), then went home and headed to the picnic.
While we were eating we told them Nannie died.
We explained that her body couldn’t keep her alive anymore, and about her liver failing. We talked about our faith in Jesus. And that we believe we’ll see her again in heaven because we believe in Jesus. We got to talk to them about their faith and that they can choose to believe what we believe.
And that we hope they will.
Eli: “So Nannie believed in Jesus?” Yep. “And she’s in heaven now?” Yep. “So since I believe in Jesus, I’ll see her when I go to heaven?” Yep. “OK!” Then he happily went over to some rocks and started throwing them into a hole.
Just like a man.
Cora Jane was sitting quietly the whole time. We asked if she was OK, and she asked if Nannie could visit from heaven to bake brownies with her. We told her no. Then her lip started to quiver and she broke down. Sobbing.
Just like a woman.
The younger kids were too little to understand so they were just playing and eating.
The hospital has a hospice program and they make beautiful blankets to put over the patients’ legs while they are dying. We had taken my mom’s blanket home and we told the children that whenever they missed Nannie, they could hug the blanket and it would be like hugging her. Cora Jane just held the blanket and cried.
It was so sad.
Then we went for a hike. It was a lovely morning and I know I needed to be outdoors after being cooped up in the hospital for so long. Even as the kids started to complain about walking so far, I felt good being outside.
The next morning we found Cora Jane snuggling the blanket because she wanted to give hugs to Nannie.
How to Tell Your Kids About a Death in the Family
- Be honest. We are all unicorns and rainbows around here but there are some things in life you just can’t sugarcoat. I took this lesson from Sesame Street and didn’t use vague words like “passed away” or ”no longer with us.” Nannie died.
- Be simple. Don’t over-explain, your kids will tune out or go down a rabbit trail that has nothing to do with the matter at hand. Nannie died. (period)
- Ask questions. This is a bit of an extension of the tip above. Instead of talking; listen. Asking questions will help you discover what you actually need to explain. Here are some examples to get you started: Do you understand? (duh) How are you feeling? What are you thinking about? What do you think death is?
- Let them see you cry. It’s OK for kids to see you sad. Young kids might not know how to express deep sadness yet. You are modeling (normal/healthy) grief for them. About a week after my mom died, Eli was trying to silence Cora Jane because she was talking about my mom. He said, “Don’t talk about Nannie, it will make mommy sad!” After that, we talked a lot about why I was sad. About how thankful I am for all the wonderful memories. And that being sad isn’t a bad thing, it means that Nannie was important and happy part of our lives.
- If you have a faith, share it. While so much of our faith is centered on serving others here on earth, a huge part is heaven. Now is the perfect time to explain your faith.
- A physical reminder. I really can’t believe how comforting the blanket from the hospital is for our kids. They love it! We also planted a tree in our front yard and we call it “Nannie’s Tree.” It will bloom every year around my mom’s death day. Having a physical reminder about your family member will help with healthy grieving and is a great way to initiate conversations with kids.
- Funeral? I’m sure there are strong feelings about both going and not going to the funeral and/or wake. But I highly recommend going. Death is a guarantee in all our lives, and teaching about it falls under the “parent” job description. I remember going to my great grandparents’ funerals and seeing their bodies and it wasn’t scary or weird. It just was. I think being exposed to that at a young age shaped a healthy perspective on death and my sharpened my faith early.
- Understand they might fine. Kids are resilient and they probably won’t be crying the next 5+ months… like you will. And that’s OK. Was it satisfying when Cora Jane broke down sobbing? Yes! I felt like she understood the gravity of the her Nannie’s death. When Eli went back to throwing rocks, was I a little hurt? Yes! Be sensitive to your little humans, as they might process things differently than you!
I hope this helps you out my friends. And I also hope you don’t have to reference this post very often!
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Rosanna says
Thank you for this. My grandma passed away today. I am thankful for your advice as I am worried about sharing her loss with them.
Kayle says
Thank you for sharing friend. Love u & your family so much! I am so sorry. I can’t imagine friend, I. Just. Can’t.
possiblemary says
I’m so glad you wrote this. And I read it at just the perfect time. I’ll definitely be using your tips.
And Cora Jane. It just brought tears to my eyes.
Just like a mom.
Jessie
Betty Palmer says
Brad,Kara, great job in telling the kids! My father felt the same as you. I can not tell you my age when I first lost a family member.Dad felt it as important as a birth. Emotions were given to us by Jesus to express our feelings, happy or sad. I loved my parents and they help under stand life , I still draw on their conversations. This is the worse death in my life but just to know I will be with her again and Jesus gave me the honor of having her as a daughter, I praise Him without ending. She loved being your mother, Kara, and then the thrill of the grandchildren. I only wish I could tell you all about her before you can into being. She was a delight! . As a baby, we would just set and watch her sleep, we loved every minute of her life.Feelings run deep in our family. I don’t know much about heaven other then Jesus called it paradise and withHim forever. I think of Grandaddy’s last minutes on this earth when he wanted to set up and we helped him and raised his right arm toward the corner of the room with a smile on his face and then fell to his pillow and was gone. I don’t what he saw but I know he was pleased with what ever or who it was. It could have been the same type of loving expression for Suzie, she loved him so. “What a day of rejoicing that will be”. A very old hymn that was sung in my grandmother time. Again good job with your children. It may help others and it may not, we each are so different. There is just not a set pattern, only God’s word.