We said a few kind words, but to her they sounded like drivel.
We hugged her tightly, but our gestures felt empty.
We held her hand, but to do so appeared insulting.
We held a funeral, but she wanted it back. Alive.
Her pet fish had died and nothing we did or said could make her forget her loss.
“We could always share a fish,” her big sister suggested, meaning the remaining of the two fish we had as pets. “I don’t mind at all if we do.”
The tears continued to fall.
She was too young to remember when our dog died, and I honestly thought she wouldn’t bat an eye at her fish’s passing. After all, she barely looked at the creature, let alone fed it (I wrote this post about how I took care of those fish, begrudgingly, and continued to earn the moniker given to me by my dear husband years ago: Dr. Petvorkian.)
This death, however, was devastating to her. She cried for a solid hour and insisted on sitting on my lap the entire time while she wailed. I stroked her hair, kissed her cheeks, and just let her mourn. I don’t know if she was milking the attention or not; I only know she was hurting and I wanted to help her through it.
It's really hard to talk to young kids about death, but thankfully I had written this post about it and was able to use what I had learned to help her through her grieving. If this is a timely subject for you, too, click here to learn more.
