Eno and I picked up Zahra from school. Before leaving we had our usual fun time on the playgound. In the car Zahra was babbling about the stuff she learned about Passover, stating that Moses is still in Egypt and then out of the blue came this zinger of a question,
"Mom, are we going to get dead someday? Mark* said we are all going to get old and get dead."
So, in about two milliseconds I decided that although we had never discussed this topic before I wasn't going to lie to her. I figured that if I had a matter-of-fact tone of voice and reminded her that "getting dead" was hopefully a long way off for most of us that we would change subjects (as one always does when conversing with a four year old). I said, "Yes, everybody in the world is going to die someday, usually after they are very old."
I was such a naive idiot.
Zahra started sobbing, not a fake cry, a real one. She blubbered, "Mama, I don't want you to get dead or Grammy to get dead..." and hysterics and crying. I was on the freeway now. I reached back and held her hand and did what any reasonable person would do when a four year child who is birthed from my loins and contains my flesh and blood and is sobbing hysterically and possibly viewing the world a bit dimmer than her happy-go-lucky existence since confronted with the concept of mortality. I friggin' backpeddled like an Olympian.
I verbalized some things to her and then finished the sentences in my head (in brackets below). Does that count as open and honest conversation with my daughter?
Zahra, "I'm scared. I really scared. I don't want you to get dead. I'm scared. Are we gonna get dead sometime?"
Me, "No, I'm not going to die [yet; hopefully not for a long time]. We're together forever [or until you or I die]."
Z, "So we're not going to die?"
Me, "Nope, not any time soon. [If we're lucky.]"
*name changed to protect the innocent (though I did have muzzling thoughts...).
