A Four Year Old Processes Death

My grandmother, Tootsie Nani, passed away last Thursday. She was 92, had lived a very full life, and played a mean game of Scrabble til the day she died (in her favorite chair with her favorite dog on her lap) so all in all, not too traumatic, as passings go. Alex and Nate loved her very much — last spent time with her a few months ago at Christmas — and Alex is having some issues with processing the news. He is alternately very thoughtful and a little blase.

Yesterday as we were getting ready to board our plane to New York, the lady selling us our sandwiches asked where we were going. I mentioned “to visit Nani and PopPop.” For some strange reason, she thought it was a good idea to say to a four year old “I don’t have a Nani or PopPop or parents any more.” [And BTW, WTF kind of conversation is that to have with a four year old in line for sandwiches at the airport!?!?!!] But, Alex topped that. “well, we’re going to say goodbye to Tootsie Nani, because she died.” The lady about fell on the floor. Actually, it served her right.

This morning, Alex went to wash his hands in the upstairs bathroom and there wasn’t any soap left. I told him to ask Nani (my Mom) for some more. He went up to her and said “Nani, may I please have more soap? You can get it from downstairs because Tootsie Nani doesn’t need it anymore. She’s dead.”

But despite all of the bluntness, he is also asking some really thoughtful and insightful questions. A smattering from this evening (with my commentary in parenthesis):
Did Tootsie Nani not eat breakfast and that’s why she lost all of her energy? (No, sweetie. She had breakfast, but sometimes people’s hearts just stop even when they eat enough food).
Why did Nani die? (She was very, very, very, very, very old).
Am I going to die someday? (We all will,b ut I hope not for a long, long time).
Do the people who work there at that place [The funeral home] like working there with dead people? (It’s not so much that they like dead people as they like helping the rest of us deal with taking care of people who die).
How did she get to that place? (they have a special car to take her there).
Why was she wearing those clothes? Did the people who work there pick them? (No, she picked them out and they just put the clothes on her).
What is that thing that was in her hands? (Rosary beads, like the ones you have but smaller).
Are Tootsie Nani’s eye glued shut? (I told him no, and frankly, I don’t want to know any differently).
Is Tootsie Nani going to turn to dust now? (Yes, eventually. It is going to take a while).

These are tough questions, and tough answers to formulate. But I do think he is getting it, slowly, and not *too* traumatized by it all. I keep telling myself this is all an important part of life.

And thank you, Tootsie Nani, for continuing to teach us still.