austin-moms-blog-teaching-kids-about-death

I’ve always wanted to be the realist mom, the mom who would tell you like it is, the straight shooter. I never wanted to sugar coat anything for my kids. That is until I wanted to.

We can’t always choose the cards we are dealt, but we can choose how we play our hand and in the case of difficult topics and kids sometimes that can be tricky. Within a little over years time my kids would get an “In Your Face” lesson about death. What they learned, what I learned as a mom about my kids in that time was valuable no matter how much I would have loved to have delayed it by at least ten years.

Death is a natural part of life. There is an order. With each new life comes the end of another life. Most people will be lucky to avoid having to deal with this topic until they are much older. At least in high school. Our family however, wasn’t so lucky. It is that reason I wanted to share with you our experiences. I am going to do a 3 part series, it is too heavy to do in one, discussing our encounters with death. I assure you this is not a “How To” piece because there is no one right way to handle it.

When my oldest daughter was four she had already been through 18 months of her first chemo regimen and was half way through her second when I had to have the most adult conversation I have ever had to have. I needed to tell her that her best friend was going to go to heaven.

Shortly after receiving the news that our daughter’s tumor had grown, we quickly adjusted to the new schedule and the new complexities of life when we were introduced to one of the best things to come from a cancer diagnosis, a friend. A friend that would know what our daughter was feeling. A child who would know the fight our daughter knew. A chance to have a taste of normal.

Torrence and Katie BFF's.
Torrence and Katie BFF’s.

Katie was just a month older than my daughter and she was completely opposite in almost every way. She was spunky, feisty, and a lot sassy and my daughter was quiet, mellow, and cooperative. Katie loved to be active while my daughter was happy to have a calm tea party. But then there were princesses. Those two loved their princesses and they both were the hospitals princesses. Together they ruled that children’s wing. The vision of those two sweet bald heads walking down the hall together in their pink nightgowns or pjs is something that will never leave me. Never.

For nine months those two filled the halls with joy and mischief. They would travel to each others rooms to do art or play or watch the latest Barbie movie. Everywhere they travelled they brought smiles. It made life in the hospital bearable. Then suddenly the halls were grey.

We knew the time was near for Katie to leave us so I began to prepare my daughter. I told her that Katie’s cancer was too much. I told her Katie had fought real hard but now she needed to rest and the only way for her to rest was to leave her cancer filled body. I explained this would mean that once she leaves she won’t be back. My daughter listened as if she understood. She was sad but she had one request, she wanted Katie to have a best friend necklace to take with her.

You got it. She is after all your best friend. Only you two can know what each other has been through. You two shared the bond of giving up your childhood to this disease but yet wouldn’t quite succumb and give in so you two forged an alliance against this beast and you two will be bonded FOREVER. Abso-freaking-lutely, you can have a necklace to share with your BFF.

Time was not on our side so I immediately called James Avery asking if they had one and was told ”Yes” but they close at 8PM. It was 7:45. It was raining. I plead my case and told them about these two besties and explained that we may not have until the morning. “I am sorry, but it is store policy that we have to lock the doors at 8PM for insurance. You can be in the store but I can’t hold the door open.”

I jumped in my car and raced to the shopping mall, jumped out, left the car running and ran inside soaking wet. It was 7:59. The sales lady looked at me and without speaking a word, pulled out a tray that held the pair of tiny charms and I immediately began to cry. No, sob. It was in that moment of looking at those small shiny necklaces of a broken heart that I realized my daughter would learn what death was before she entered into kindergarten. She would learn that death was forever and death doesn’t care if you have a best friend who will miss watching the latest Barbie movie with you or playing dolls. She would learn that death happens to princesses too.

Not 12 hours later, I would wake my princess and tell her that Katie was gone. Her immediate reaction was a gasp as she covered her mouth, but her eyes told the real story. They were gleaming. She was smiling behind her hands. She did a half hop and in a quiet exclamation says, “She’s an Angel now!” Yes, sweet girl, she is, but she always was, as are you.

necklace
At first I was angry at myself for not providing enough shelter for my baby from the other side of cancer. I should have kept her at a safe distance and not allowed her to make friends knowing this was a possibility. However, it was her confidence about Katie’s death and her being ok that helped me in my grief/guilt. We still have my daughter’s half of the necklace and seven years later my daughter still remembers her friend. Her death may have had an impact but it was her life that meant so much more to my sweet innocent child. I could have protected her from that pain but I also would have robbed her from that joy.

2 COMMENTS

  1. So blessed Katie was able to have a best friend in this life. We are so thankful for you and your family and you all hold a special place in our heart. Your story brought back so many great memories of those two together.

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