This was not the post I was supposed to write. This was supposed to be a post about holiday baking with kids, spending time with friends, finding peace during the chaos of the holiday season. But not this.
This week I lost a loved one. I lost my Grandpa. My children lost a Great-Grandpa, whom they also called Grandpa (at nearly 101 years old, he was Grandpa to a LOT of people!). But he was not just a Grandpa. He was a dear friend, confidant, mentor, godfather, my rock. He was everything a man should and could be in my life. He has been there for me through every high, and answered the phone at every low. I named my son, Nicolas, after him. So you see, he was someone incredibly special to us.
Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to see my kids. When he couldn’t sleep at night, he would scroll through his phone and look at photos of my kids. The smile and laughter they brought to him were nothing like I had seen before. The days leading up to his death, he was in the hospital in Michigan and I made sure we all FaceTimed with him almost everyday. After he passed, it was a couple of days before I FaceTimed with my mom to see how she was doing and when my daughter, Gloria (four years old), asked to see Grandpa, my heart broke.
I never prepared myself to discuss death with my child. I can’t even grapple with the topic myself. So at that moment, I simply distracted her and changed the subject. I was just not ready.
I Googled what to say. I read articles on what to say. I looked up what Buddhists would say. I don’t know why I did that last one, I just did. But I happened to stumble across a beautiful explanation in a recent episode of This is Us.
“There’s no dying. There’s no you or me or them. There’s just us. This sloppy, wild, colorful, magical thing that has no beginning and no end is right here. Maybe it’s us.”
I love this. It’s simple and beautiful. It makes me feel like even if our loved ones are not alive, they are with us everyday. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to discuss death with my children, but when the time comes and it is appropriate I hope I remember these words.
Have you lost a loved one who was special to your children? If so, what did you tell them? When is the right time to tell them? I would love to hear your stories.
