Tonight on the cancer ward, two little girls reminded me of the power of truth in the process of grief for young children.
As I sat coloring with the 5 1/2 year old daughter of my cousin, her 3 year old sister suddenly looked up to us and stated "My Papa is going to die soon." It blossomed right into her big sister explaining that's why she was at the hospital, and the problem the size of a cupcake in her grandpa's brain, and how he would feel better when he dies, and it's okay because they will always love him in their hearts. She told me it makes her sad, but it makes her mom very sad and cry all the time. I told her it makes me sad and I cry too. I told her it makes me sad that my dad's brain is sick too, and when she asked if it would make him die, I said yes.
And then, that big sister asked me what would happen when her mom and dad die. I told her people would take care of her with the love from her mom and dad in their hearts. But she meant what would happen if they died and nobody else was there. In that moment, what I thought to say was that would be an emergency and she could call 911 for any emergency. "Oh yeah, she said.....can I also call you?"
I said "Sure. I can tell you my phone number. Would you like to call me right now? "
She 'called' me right up and said, "I just wanted to let you know we are in the hospital because my Papa isn't doing so well and he's going to die soon."
And it went from there. She alternated between a toy phone and a pretend phone all the while she colored and carried on a conversation blending the facts and some fiction ("we're just about to park now, we'll see you soon") and even asking if there was anything she could do for me.
Perhaps 15 minutes later, in the waiting room outside her poppa's door, a woman sitting with her husband in a hospital gown, overheard this big sister ask me how cancer gets in your brain. She proceeded to say hello and tell her she loved someone who was going to die very soon too. It was one of those times you have to trust that a complete stranger is going to say the right thing, a helpful thing, an explanation of something that even doctors can't always explain, because every moment makes an impression of truth. I am not certain, but I have a guess, that hearing she is not alone in this place of losing a love she has always known, was a gift for both the giver and the receiver.
If you've ever doubted the power of truth in the process of grief for kids, I wish you could have been there with me tonight.
As I sat coloring with the 5 1/2 year old daughter of my cousin, her 3 year old sister suddenly looked up to us and stated "My Papa is going to die soon." It blossomed right into her big sister explaining that's why she was at the hospital, and the problem the size of a cupcake in her grandpa's brain, and how he would feel better when he dies, and it's okay because they will always love him in their hearts. She told me it makes her sad, but it makes her mom very sad and cry all the time. I told her it makes me sad and I cry too. I told her it makes me sad that my dad's brain is sick too, and when she asked if it would make him die, I said yes.
And then, that big sister asked me what would happen when her mom and dad die. I told her people would take care of her with the love from her mom and dad in their hearts. But she meant what would happen if they died and nobody else was there. In that moment, what I thought to say was that would be an emergency and she could call 911 for any emergency. "Oh yeah, she said.....can I also call you?"
I said "Sure. I can tell you my phone number. Would you like to call me right now? "
She 'called' me right up and said, "I just wanted to let you know we are in the hospital because my Papa isn't doing so well and he's going to die soon."
And it went from there. She alternated between a toy phone and a pretend phone all the while she colored and carried on a conversation blending the facts and some fiction ("we're just about to park now, we'll see you soon") and even asking if there was anything she could do for me.
Perhaps 15 minutes later, in the waiting room outside her poppa's door, a woman sitting with her husband in a hospital gown, overheard this big sister ask me how cancer gets in your brain. She proceeded to say hello and tell her she loved someone who was going to die very soon too. It was one of those times you have to trust that a complete stranger is going to say the right thing, a helpful thing, an explanation of something that even doctors can't always explain, because every moment makes an impression of truth. I am not certain, but I have a guess, that hearing she is not alone in this place of losing a love she has always known, was a gift for both the giver and the receiver.
If you've ever doubted the power of truth in the process of grief for kids, I wish you could have been there with me tonight.
Thanks to their mama (my cousin) for her permission to share this story gift. I just wish I could have recorded the twenty minutes of precious, tender, honest love of it all for her.
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