I was sitting outside on our deck this afternoon, watching the kids playing on our swingset, and I thought, "If a stranger happened upon our backyard and listened to my kids' conversation, he would think that they are royally fucked up."
Hayes was up in the treehouse part of the swingset, pretending he was "at heaven." Isla was on the ground, pretending to cry because she missed him. Tyson was taking stuffed animals one-by-one up the ladder to heaven, while Isla mourned each one's passing.
Clearly we have had to introduce our kids to the concept of death ...
With my dad's passing in 2010, followed shortly thereafter by our dog, Nellie, and earlier this year, our dog, Zeus, we have frequented the death talk. In the interest of being honest with our kids, we have talked about illness - especially cancer (which took both my dad and Nellie) - and heaven ad nauseam. Cancer is an "easier" topic -- we can explain what it is, how it is treated, and what it can do to your body in fairly simple terms. Heaven not so much. In a nutshell, we have told them that it may exist, that we believe and hope that it does, but that no one can tell you what it is really like because, if it exists, you don't go there until you die and when you die, you don't come back. Um, yeah.
So now one of their favorite games is "Who do we know in heaven?"
And again, if someone happened upon us...
