The simple life

Tonight's topic for car talk was death. Sure, death isn't exactly a common subject for a four year old, but Ari learned long ago that it's OK to ask questions - and that we'll answer any reasonable one. I've never once responded with "Ask me again when you're older" or any other delaying tactic. [Aside from the "I'll have to look that up." That one happens a lot.] So, tonight, we talk Death.

Ari says, in the context of death, "When God calls, you have to go." This sounded like a 'lesson' to me, so I asked "Did Omi tell you that?" Apparently she has; I had no argument with the concept so I was ready to move on. Ari wasn't. We moved into a conversation about how old or young a person is when God calls.

For some explanation of the upcoming breakdown, remember that I am exhausted. I'm so tired I can't remember all the important things while the small things are tripping me up completely. My reserves are shot. Enter: Death.

Ari says "Grandma Betty wasn't very old when God called her." My stomach immediately knotted. My mother is so peripheral to our existence that Ari called her 'Betty' rather than 'Debbie'. This is probably 'Right' and 'Good' - after all, it's probably not healthy for a four year old to have anything but a peripheral relation to a grandmother gone for 6 years before she was born.

I took a nice deep breath, and corrected her. Unfortunately, Ari wasn't through yet. In her peaceful, matter of fact, uncomplicated way, she asked me if I was a grown up when my mom died. How do you explain 'teenager' to a four year old? I said "I wasn't little, like you are, but I wasn't all grown up either."

For my fantastically thorough girl, this wasn't enough. How old was I, really? "Eighteen."

And again, in her peaceful, matter of fact, uncomplicated way, Ari says "Oh, well you were a grown up then. So you didn't need your mom anymore. So it's OK that God called her."

By this time, tears rolled freely down my face. I had missed my turn. And I was all out of answers. So I cried silently and let my mind wail "God! I needed her...."

It was part prayer, part resignation, part childishness, part desperation, part emptiness. It was love and hate and loneliness and frailty. It was grief, and rejoicing.

A few minutes later I hurriedly wiped my face off before Ari could see it. I prefer that her life remain a little less complicated for a little bit longer.