Anyone Have Any Questions??

As a parent, you know there are going to be questions asked by your children that will make you laugh and some that will make you cringe. Some are annoying and some could be considered "deep" given the child's age when they ask it. Some are asked over and over and over and over and over...and some only need to be asked once. Many will be forgotten and then there are those that knock you off your feet...solidifying them into your memory.

When your child is young, there's the all-time parent favorite: "Why?"
Everything is "Why?"
Once you answer the question, it's followed by another resounding, "Why?"
It's quite maddening, really...but we all survive that stage and then we're off to the next one.

The next major obstacle? Body parts. There's a fun one.
"Mommy...what kind of a pee pee do you have?"
"Mommy...why do you have to sit when you pee?"
"Mommy...are you peeing out of your butt?!?"
"Mommy...why did God make girls so weird?"
"Mommy...why does my pee pee stick straight up?"
"Mommy...how do I make it go down?"

I'll tell ya what-when these questions started being thrown my way, I was never so happy to be remarried. Each time one was tossed out there, the immediate reaction would be, "HONEY!!!! Jackson needs to talk to you!!!!"

First grade has produced some great questions for dinner conversation as well. Over this past school year, our meal times sound a little like this:
"What does f##k mean?"
"What does s##t mean?"
"What does b##tch mean?"
"What does a##hole mean?"
"What does it mean when you hold up the middle finger?"

It's hard not to laugh when he says these words with such conviction...but my reaction is always the same. I look across the table at my husband and say, "It's all yours, babe" at which point I usually get up to do the dishes. Gotta love the kids in class with the older siblings who are enriching my child's vocabulary.

While we've gotten some absolutely hilarious questions from Jackson, we've also gotten some that are difficult to handle because they're just so deep.

For example, when my father's brother died, Jackson attended the wake with me. He had been to a few before but was too young to really pay attention to what was going on. This time was different though.

Before arriving, I had explained to him that Uncle Marce had passed away and was now up in Heaven. After the basic questions regarding how he died, Jackson seemed content with the answers given and changed the subject to Mr Men as only a 5 year old could.

When we entered the funeral home, I went up alone to pay my respects and say goodbye to my uncle and left Jack in the back with my siblings. It was an open casket so when I came back, I saw Jackson staring at the body. Then he rocked me with the question he asked:

"If Uncle Marce is dead and is in Heaven, how is he over there? If he's in Heaven, are we in Heaven too? Why is his body over there if he's supposed to be up in the sky in Heaven?"

I guess I wasn't prepared for such deep questions from a 5 year old. You just assume that they don't pay attention to everything. You don't realize just how much they are processing. You don't realize that you're going to have to talk about the afterlife and the concept of your soul leaving your body to such a young kid. Such ideas are hard for a kid that age to comprehend...and it's almost as equally difficult to try to explain it to them. After all, if they can't see it, it's hard for them to understand it or believe it...unless of course it's Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.

When Warren died, Jackson and my nephew attended the wake. Jackson was now 6 and he better understood what was going on. Michael, on the other hand, was just learning about these things.

Lisa Beth took the kids up to the casket and began answering their questions. At one point, I turned around and caught sight of the casket out of the corner of my eye. All I saw was Jackson and Michael up there...Lisa was blocked by the line of people paying respects to the family. My eyes grew wide and my mouth dropped open as I saw both kids putting their hands not only into the casket but on Warren's face. With the image of my child and his cousin knocking over the casket in my head, I was just about to yell out for Jackson to stop when I saw Lisa Beth. She was encouraging them to touch Warren so they wouldn't be afraid. She answered every question they lobbed at her.

After Warren passed away, Jackson began asking more questions about how he died: about ALS and what it did to the human body. He wondered how your muscles stopping would cause you to die. He wondered if it hurt. He wondered if everyone got that disease or how you knew if you were going to get it. He wondered if it was contagious like a cold.

During a car ride to his religious education class one Tuesday afternoon, Jackson randomly asked what disease Papa had. Up until this point, he knew there was something wrong with Papa, he knew that he was sick, but he didn't know exactly what it was that was making his grandfather change from day to day. I looked in the rear view mirror and said, "Papa has ALS." You could see the wheels turning in his head and shortly thereafter, he followed up with, "What disease did Warren have?" I responded, "ALS." The topic was dropped as we pulled up to our church.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, my father was admitted to the hospital with a blood clot in his right leg. During his stay, I spent numerous hours at the hospital with him...sometimes late into the evening only to be back again early in the morning. When he was released, I spent much of my time running back and forth from my house to my dad's to be with him or help with his care. It was during this time that my emotions started to get the best of me and most of the time I was home, I was crying. I spent more time crying than I did not...and Jackson was paying attention.

On Thanksgiving evening, after I had left my parents' house to be with my in laws, I received numerous calls from my sister who had the night shift caring for our father. My dad AND my mom were having issues and there was a possibility that yet another trip to the hospital was in order.

Once we were home and I was in bed reading to Jackson, my sister called to say that I either had to go to the hospital with my mom or come to the house to be with my dad. At that same time, the baby was awake and screaming from a massive infection he had contracted. My husband was banging on the wall for me to come help with Lucas, my sister was going to call me back to tell me if I needed to come help with my parents and overwhelmed, I began to cry.

As the culmination of stressors began to reach a boiling point, it hit. Jackson turned to me and said,
"Mommy...is Papa dying?"

Bang, bang, bang. My husband hit the wall harder, begging for me to come help him...but that had to wait. I had to catch my breath and quickly figure out what I was going to say to my son.

I put the book down, rolled onto my right side and looked him in the eyes.
With tears streaming down my face, I said, "Yes, Jackson. Papa is dying."

It was quiet for a moment...except for the hysterical screaming coming from the room next door...and then I saw my child's eyes fill with tears.
"But I don't want him to die, Mommy." he said.
"I know," I said. "I don't want him to die either, Jack. He's my daddy."

Jackson moved closer to me and put his head on my chest. We laid there crying without words for what seemed like an eternity. I finally couldn't ignore my husband's banging any longer and I went to help with Lucas as my husband traded places with me.

From that point on, Jackson began asking many questions.
"When is Papa going to die"
"Will it hurt him?"
"Will he die before Christmas?"
"Will he die before I turn 8?"
"What muscle is going to die next?"
"Where do you go when you die?"
"What's Heaven?"
"Will Papa see his brother in Heaven?"
"Will he see his old pets?"
They went on and on. Each question became more and more difficult for me to answer as my own grief was boiling over. When I cried, he'd cry. When he cried, I cried even harder. It was a vicious cycle.

It came to the point where we had to decide how forthright and honest we were going to get with all this information. Were we going to tell him the absolute truth? Were going to sugar coat things? Were we going to keep some things from him to protect him? How the hell were we going to handle this?

I thought back to when I was a child and the first real death/funeral I remember. It was my father's mother. I don't remember everything...just snippets really. The clearest memory I have is me inside the funeral parlor, just outside the room where my grandmother's body lay. I was looking up at her name on the door and I made the sign of the cross (because I had just learned how to do that and I thought, "What the heck? This seems like a good time to do it.")

After I made my little sign, I looked into the room and saw my father standing there talking with someone I didn't know. He was crying. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry and it scared the hell out of me. He was so strong...how was he crying?

I had no idea what death was. No one explained anything to me. Because I was the youngest of three children (and by youngest I mean WAAAAAAAY youngest) people liked to keep things from me. I was sheltered a lot of the time and didn't know half of the stuff that was actually going on around me. This was no different.

Not having any idea what was truly going on in there besides it possibly being a good time to show my new cross trick, I became scared when I saw my father in that state. This whole death thing must be really bad and really scary if it's making him crack like that. I had no idea about the concept of Heaven and that death could be seen as something not scary but more a pathway to a new journey in a beautiful place. All I saw was that it was sad and scary...and so that's how I viewed death.

I wanted something different for Jackson. I didn't want him to be scared. I didn't want him to fear it or be confused by it. I wanted him to know that some people believe there is something beyond death...something beautiful where there is no more pain or suffering.

But how do you explain all that? I'll  tell ya how...you go get books from the library!

We looked up some titles that were recommended and came home with a bag full of books about death, dying, the afterlife, what happens to you when someone you love dies, Heaven, etc. You name it, we read about it. Actually, my husband read about it with Jackson. I tried but couldn't handle it. I would cry to the point where he couldn't understand what I was saying half of the time.

The books were actually very helpful. They answered every possible question he could think of. Don't get me wrong, he still managed to ask questions but we now had ideas on how to answer them. We were (and still are) totally honest about what is happening. We hid nothing...sugar coated nothing. We told him death wasn't something to be feared...it happens to everyone...it's a way of life...everything and everyone dies. We talked a lot about Heaven and he would tell us what he envisioned Heaven to be like.

Jackson believes that when you die, you go up to Heaven and meet God. When you arrive, all of your family who died before you is there waiting for you because God called them on the phone to let them know you were coming. When your family came, they brought your pets too. As soon as you get up there, the doors open and there's your family with God and a few angels and they all show you around the place. He also believes you're reunited with things that you lost. (Jackson lost his security blanket last year in Florida, a blanket that he calls Boo, and he asked, "Do you think Papa will find Boo up in Heaven?" Wanna guess how hard I cried on that one?)

Our only flaw in this was that we might have discussed it too much because it's all Jackson would talk about. He'd tell his friends, "My grandpa is dying." He'd tell total strangers, "My grandpa is going to Heaven soon." One Friday I got his school work from the week and saw this

For those of you who can't read "First Grader," it says 'My grandpa is going to be dead soon.'

Luckily, I warned his teacher before he wrote this so she wasn't completely shocked.

Jackson noticed when I was upset. I mean, how could he not? I was crying all the god damn time. He'd have to be blind not to see that I was hurting.

One day while walking in his room to turn off his light before we left for the bus stop, I found this:

Again, translation: (On yellow post-it) I love you papa. I'm so worried. I love watching Star Wars with you Papa. (On white paper) Papa is going to be safe in Heaven so don't worry. To Mommy.

My heart broke at seeing those two pieces of paper. So sweet, yet so sad at the same time.

My little boy has done more for me in the past months than I think I have been able to do for him. Yes, I've explained death and my beliefs on what happens afterwards...but he has given me comfort. When I cry, he brings me a picture that he drew to cheer me up. When I think he's not looking or paying attention, I find notes like these where he's reassuring me that everything's going to be ok. He's wiser than his years and his heart is bigger than his body.

While this time has been extremely difficult and talking about my father's inevitable death with my 7 year old has been tough, it has also been cathartic. We comfort each other and we both know that it's safe to be totally honest about our feelings and emotions with one another. It's ok to cry...it's ok to laugh. It's ok to be happy on some days and on others it's ok to be really f##kin pissed off. It's ok as long as we feel our way through this and we do it together.

I know that when the day finally comes that I have to walk into my son's room and tell him that Papa is gone, it'll hurt him more than anything he's felt in his 7 years on this planet. I know that no matter how much we prepare for it, it's still going to hurt. I'm not stupid...I know that nothing will ever fully prepare one's self or a child for such a loss.

What I DO know, however, is that when Jackson is at my father's wake and he sees his mother crying...he will not be afraid. He won't feel what I felt when I was a child and I saw grief written across my father's face. Jackson will know that mommy is crying not because she is scared of death but because of the loss in her heart. He'll know that while mommy is crying on the outside, she's also happy that Papa will no longer be in pain. He will know that behind those tears, mommy knows that Papa is up in Heaven running on those big, fluffy clouds, chasing after his big brother, Marce. His legs will no longer be in braces and he will no longer be confined to a wheelchair.

No...Papa will be running as fast as his legs can take him.

That is without question.