The Ephemerality of Life, and Possessions.

Lately Dutch and I have been talking a bit about death, for various reasons. The other day she asked me "Mama, do girls ever die?" and I told her that kids do sometimes die. I can't bring myself to lie about this - it seems like too important a thing to lie about - but I can't imagine that she can really understand it, since I can't really get my own mind around it, so I should probably just have said "No." Anyway, I told her that people die when they get really old, or really hurt, or really sick. She processed that internally for a few hours, and as we were walking home from the park, she asked me "If I die, mama, what will you do with my room?"

I'm not sure why that emerged as an important Death Question, but I was surprised that she clearly understands that when you die, you're not around anymore. And your loved ones have to decide what to do with all your stuff.

I told her I didn't know what we'd do with her room, that we'd be so sad that we wouldn't know what to do. Then I told her it's our job as her parents to keep her safe and healthy. Then I pointed out a cat on the sidewalk, and successfully escaped the conversation, probably leaving all sorts of weird emotional/psychological scars. I prefer the questions about things like how many leaves are on a tree.