Thursday, September 25, 2014

Thanatopsis: My Child's Fear of Dying

Early this morning Sophia wakes up yelling because of a bad dream. I jump up from bed to rescue her. Through plaintive sobs she tells me, "I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!..." I quickly take her up into my arms and whisper, "No, honey, you're not going to die. You're okay. I have you. I have you now...."

Without prompting she recounts her dream with a choked deliberation that breaks my heart. I've never seen her like this before. I flashback to my own feelings of stark terror when I first truly understood the impermanence of my life and of those I love....No, she's too young to have to suffer this kind of anxiety. I'm her daddy, and I want to salve her pangs of fear right now, but how?

Distraction, misdirection, displacement...That's how we adults do it.

"Do you want to go potty, honey? Do you have to go? Ok, let's go to the potty..."

On the way to the bathroom, I continue to search inwardly for the best approach to this delicate subject of death at her age at this inconvenient time of the morning...What should I say next?

My incompetence saves me. I have put her pajamas back on the wrong way.

Her loud disapproval is immediate.

"Oh, sorry, honey," I say as I fumble with the light switch so we can see our business better. The intensity of the bathroom light hurts our eyes, but I whisper a thank you to God for this welcome disruption.

Sophia's annoyance with me takes a sudden extra turn: "Why do you stand up to peepee and girls have to sit down! Why, Daddy? Why do I have to sit down and boys have to stand up? Can I stand up too?..."

First death, now this? I'm not ready...

I mutter something about girls having vaginas and boys having penises, but she doesn't have a clue. I stutter again through a half-witted technical explanation of how body parts work, but her bemused expression remains, and I'm embarrassed at being caught off guard by her. Male and female differences aren't supposed to be a thing I have to articulate to my three year old while blinded and in a semi-conscious state....

My wife, my angel of light, my morning glory, suddenly appears in the doorway to rescue me from my ineptitude.

She whispers to me, "What's going on?"
I mutter something about vaginas and penises.
"What?" she says. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't know. Please, can you take over?"

She quickly turns her attention to Sophia while I shuffle back to my hole to lie down in the darkness and rest in peace once more....