DorkySon was just lying on the sofa, playing a game on the iPad, while I tidied around him.
“Mummy,” he said. “Dying doesn’t mean that you go away and never come back, does it?”
“I don’t want that to happen to us,” he said. “But it’s more like a rainbow isn’t it, that you go away but then you come back again.”
It was one of those conversations that I knew I should have been better prepared for. I knew it would come up at some point, although there is no obvious reason why it has happened now. We fumbled our way through a ten-minute conversation, in which I tried to find the balance between reassurance and honesty, and attempted a few analogies drawing on what he already knows about nature.
I explained that different people believe different things – some people think we become angels, or stars, or come back to life in another form, or go to a place called heaven – and that we all have to make our own minds up about that.
“Well Grandpa believes in heaven,” he said. “So maybe he knows a bit more about it than you do, and I’ll talk to him.”
We left it there, although I know it will come up again soon.
That was yesterday.
Today, we were doing something similar. I was bustling around doing laundry and dishes, while DorkySon played in the den.
“Mummy,” he said, in that same inquisitive tone of voice.
Oh my, I thought to myself. Here we go again…
“If you decide to grow a baby in your tummy, how does it actually get there?”
This time I was much better prepared.
“It’s pretty simple,” I said. “You can ask Daddy about that when he gets home.”