Last Saturday morning when I was making pancakes, Lizzy bounded into the kitchen.
"Oh Mummy, I had the best dream!"
I asked her what her dream was about, but all that she would tell me was that it had been about her dad. I am so glad that she has happy memories.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I Want This to Be a Happy House.
About a month ago we moved into our new house. Ahh...we are finally settled. After living in five different houses over the past two years, we are finally able to feel comfortable and create some happy memories. Tonight as we chatted before he went to bed, Matt said, "Mom, I don't want anything sad to happen in this house. I want it to be a happy house."
While our home in Marland held many good memories, they seem to be overshaddowed by difficult and sad ones. My children watched their dad slowly lose his ability to communicate, reason and think logically. They saw him lose his ability to read, walk, feed and dress himself. They saw him stuggling to breathe on his last day of life. Their home went from a safe haven to the place where their father died.
Like Matt, I want this new house to be a happy house. One where my children can be free from worry and anxiety. I am praying for wisdom to know how I can create a place where they can regain the feeling of security and happiness.
While our home in Marland held many good memories, they seem to be overshaddowed by difficult and sad ones. My children watched their dad slowly lose his ability to communicate, reason and think logically. They saw him lose his ability to read, walk, feed and dress himself. They saw him stuggling to breathe on his last day of life. Their home went from a safe haven to the place where their father died.
Like Matt, I want this new house to be a happy house. One where my children can be free from worry and anxiety. I am praying for wisdom to know how I can create a place where they can regain the feeling of security and happiness.
If I were God...
About a month before my husband's death, I told my children that he was going to die. He didn't want me to. He was convinced that he was not going to die. He felt certain that God was going to heal him, but I knew that he was going to die. The children needed to be prepared.
It was late one evening, the kids were in their PJ's and had just brushed their teeth. I had them sit down in the hallway right by the bathroom. I told them that their daddy was very sick, and he wasn't going to get better. He was going to die.
Their response was typical in that each child responded differently.
My eldest was quiet.
My daughter was upset, angry, and verbal.
My youngest didn't understand.
Through her tears Lizzy said, "What have we been praying for! All this praying has been a waste!" I explained that God doesn't always answer the way we want him to. She responded, "If I were God, I would heal daddy!" I held her as she cried and stuggled to know how to explain to my child that God's ways aren't our ways? "Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time." O. Chambers
My three year old son was completely confussed. He began to be silly and laugh. This angered Lizzy and she yelled at him.
"Ben, you shouldn't laugh! Daddy is dying!"
I explained to Liz that Ben was too little to understand. To this Ben put his hands on his hips and said,
"Yeah, Lizzy, I too little." :-) This made us all laugh.
I was surprised that the severity of my husband's illness was a surprise to my children. I assumed that they recognized that he was close to death. They had not. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor five years prior to his death. He had been sick almost all of their lives. For them it was normal for a dad to not be able to drive a car. It was normal that he coudn't read them a book or speak in complete sentences. Seizures, doctor's appointments, and medication were all a normal part of their lives. When I told them that he was going to die, Lizzy cried and said, "I wish you hadn't told me. I didn't know!"
David didn't want the children to know that he was dying. We kept it from them for almost five years. As he came closer to death, I knew that they needed to be told that he was dying. Children need to be told. A year prior to my husband's death, my friend's husband died from stomach cancer. Their three young children were not told that their dad was very ill. He, like my husband, did not want his children to know. He too believed that he would be healed. When my friend told her children that their dad died, one of her boys said, "Why didn't you tell us that he was that sick?" They were angry. I didn't want that for my children.
It is difficult, but children need to know. Not knowing doesn't make it better.
It was late one evening, the kids were in their PJ's and had just brushed their teeth. I had them sit down in the hallway right by the bathroom. I told them that their daddy was very sick, and he wasn't going to get better. He was going to die.
Their response was typical in that each child responded differently.
My eldest was quiet.
My daughter was upset, angry, and verbal.
My youngest didn't understand.
Through her tears Lizzy said, "What have we been praying for! All this praying has been a waste!" I explained that God doesn't always answer the way we want him to. She responded, "If I were God, I would heal daddy!" I held her as she cried and stuggled to know how to explain to my child that God's ways aren't our ways? "Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time." O. Chambers
My three year old son was completely confussed. He began to be silly and laugh. This angered Lizzy and she yelled at him.
"Ben, you shouldn't laugh! Daddy is dying!"
I explained to Liz that Ben was too little to understand. To this Ben put his hands on his hips and said,
"Yeah, Lizzy, I too little." :-) This made us all laugh.
I was surprised that the severity of my husband's illness was a surprise to my children. I assumed that they recognized that he was close to death. They had not. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor five years prior to his death. He had been sick almost all of their lives. For them it was normal for a dad to not be able to drive a car. It was normal that he coudn't read them a book or speak in complete sentences. Seizures, doctor's appointments, and medication were all a normal part of their lives. When I told them that he was going to die, Lizzy cried and said, "I wish you hadn't told me. I didn't know!"
David didn't want the children to know that he was dying. We kept it from them for almost five years. As he came closer to death, I knew that they needed to be told that he was dying. Children need to be told. A year prior to my husband's death, my friend's husband died from stomach cancer. Their three young children were not told that their dad was very ill. He, like my husband, did not want his children to know. He too believed that he would be healed. When my friend told her children that their dad died, one of her boys said, "Why didn't you tell us that he was that sick?" They were angry. I didn't want that for my children.
It is difficult, but children need to know. Not knowing doesn't make it better.
Ice Cream from NASA
A dear family friend sent a care package to my children from one of her many business trips. Contained in her package were postcards, a newsy letter about her trip, a book, and three packages of freeze dried astronaut chocolate chip ice cream from NASA. As I opened the ice cream for my five year old, I told him that it was from NASA where his daddy used to work. Immediatly Ben looked at me and said, "Is he still dead?"
"Yes, daddy is still dead," I answered. Before I could elaborate on why dead people stay dead, Ben was happily eating his icecream talking about something else.
This is how young children learn to accept death. It is a slow process with all learning done in quick spirts.
"Yes, daddy is still dead," I answered. Before I could elaborate on why dead people stay dead, Ben was happily eating his icecream talking about something else.
This is how young children learn to accept death. It is a slow process with all learning done in quick spirts.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Do You Know What is Sad?
Running some errands with just my daughter gave her an opportunity to open up a bit. I am always amazed at how I never have to ask my children how thay are handling their father's death. When given an opportunity to be with me alone, they start the conversation.
"Mom, do you know what is sad?" she asked.
"What Lizzy?"
"My children won't have a grandfather.
I reminded her that her future husband will probably have a father, and he will be her children's grandfather.
"Yea, it will probably be easier to just have one," she said. :-)
"Mom, do you know what is sad?" she asked.
"What Lizzy?"
"My children won't have a grandfather.
I reminded her that her future husband will probably have a father, and he will be her children's grandfather.
"Yea, it will probably be easier to just have one," she said. :-)
You Could Get Hit By a Car
I took my eldest son, Matt, out for breakfast this morning. It was nice to get out and spend some time with just him. While we were driving home he shared that he was worried that I might die. I reminded him that I take care of myself. I eat well, exercise, and I plan to live a long time. (This is what his grief counsellor told me to say if this ever came up.) His response,
"You could get hit by a car."
Grrr....I just hate that my children don't have the same security that others do. They live with the fear that their remaining parent may die.
Later at bed time he told me that he feels like he misses Dave more than anyone else. He hates that his dad will never get to see him grow up, and he feels badly that he didn't spend more time with his dad. I reminded him how he and his dad used to play football in the basement. We talked about how they used to play David & Goliath. (Our own family game.) I shared with him how Dave used to hold him for hours bouncing him as a baby in an attempt to get him to fall asleep. I want him to remember the good times he had with his father and know that his dad loved him very much.
"You could get hit by a car."
Grrr....I just hate that my children don't have the same security that others do. They live with the fear that their remaining parent may die.
Later at bed time he told me that he feels like he misses Dave more than anyone else. He hates that his dad will never get to see him grow up, and he feels badly that he didn't spend more time with his dad. I reminded him how he and his dad used to play football in the basement. We talked about how they used to play David & Goliath. (Our own family game.) I shared with him how Dave used to hold him for hours bouncing him as a baby in an attempt to get him to fall asleep. I want him to remember the good times he had with his father and know that his dad loved him very much.
Friday, January 14, 2011
I'll Never Find Him
Last June, seven months after my husband's death, we moved 950 miles to live near my family.
While sitting on the beach this summer, my four year old son climbed on my lap. Whispering in my ear he said, "Now that we live in Canada, I will never find my daddy."
I have spoken with counsellors.
I have read books.
I have searched the internet.
But no matter how many times I try to explain death to my four year old son, he does not understand it. It seems as though he believes that at any moment his dad may just come home. Ben has looked for his dad at the zoo, has thought that every phone call might be him, and now thinks that since we have moved to another country that I have taken him further from his father.
Holding Ben close, I told him that his daddy had loved him very much. I explained that his dad became very sick. So sick that his body stopped working. He died. He now lives in heaven which is not on earth. We can not find him no matter how hard we look because he is no longer here.
Nodding like he understood, Ben rushed off to play in the sand.
How many times have we had this same conversation? How many more times will I explain the meaning of death to my son?
While sitting on the beach this summer, my four year old son climbed on my lap. Whispering in my ear he said, "Now that we live in Canada, I will never find my daddy."
I have spoken with counsellors.
I have read books.
I have searched the internet.
But no matter how many times I try to explain death to my four year old son, he does not understand it. It seems as though he believes that at any moment his dad may just come home. Ben has looked for his dad at the zoo, has thought that every phone call might be him, and now thinks that since we have moved to another country that I have taken him further from his father.
Holding Ben close, I told him that his daddy had loved him very much. I explained that his dad became very sick. So sick that his body stopped working. He died. He now lives in heaven which is not on earth. We can not find him no matter how hard we look because he is no longer here.
Nodding like he understood, Ben rushed off to play in the sand.
How many times have we had this same conversation? How many more times will I explain the meaning of death to my son?
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