Kindergartners and death

We received some sad news on Friday morning. Scott's grandmother, the boys' Nana, died after a long battle with pneumonia.

Scott and I struggled with what to tell the twins. Nana was 88 years old, so the boys have no memories of the vibrant, witty woman who used to throw flapper parties in her basement. By the time the boys were born, Nana had already broken her hip and her wrist, and she was a shadow of her former self. It was a well-known fact that Nana wanted nothing more than to join her husband, who died in May of 2005. Still, the boys did have a relationship with her, and they were sad when she moved to Texas last year.

I decided it was time to hit the Internet. I stumbled upon this article on Babycenter about death and kindergartners. Mustering up as much courage as I could, I asked the boys, "Remember how Nana moved to Texas last year? And we said that you might not see her again?"

"Yes," they replied, in unison.

"Well, um, Nana died yesterday."

"Like my fish?" asked Rob. "Yes, Rob, like your fish." Thank God we bought those little 19-cent fish that expired so quickly.

"Why, Mama? Why'd Nana die?" Oh, shit. Why did I decide to do this when Scott was at work?

"Well, honey, Nana was old, and sometimes when you get old, you get sick. Nana got very sick, her body stopped working, and she died."

"Will we see Nana again? In heaven?" What? My husband and I don't attend church regularly, although Rob did participate in the MOPPETS program as part of Mothers of Preschoolers. I honestly had no idea that he'd retained any knowledge of heaven, since this is a child who, after at least two years' worth of exposure to the "Days of the Week" song, still can't say the days of the week in order.

"Yes, sweetie, we'll see Nana again in heaven. She'll be happy to see us, and we'll be happy to see her, even if we're sad now."

"Will Nana have a bed and food in heaven? And cookies?"

"Yes, honey. Nana will have everything she needs in heaven."

"OK!" he said, and skipped off. Russ was listening intently throughout the whole conversation but he never said anything. I asked him if he had any questions about Nana, and he shook his head silently. I don't know what he absorbed, if he absorbed anything at all. He wasn't particularly close to Nana. We shall see, I guess, in the following week when we deal with the visitation and funeral.