My father-in-law died this week after a horrible, lengthy battle with Alzheimer's. Yes, it's a blessing in a way, but it's still hard when someone you love dies, no matter what.
He was a sweet, kind man. He was quiet and gentle but with a booming voice that seemed like it should've come from a radio announcer in the 1940s. He lived a life peppered with remarkable, noteworthy tasks and accomplishments. He was married for 41 years. He had two children, plus two step-children, and six grandchildren. He will be missed. He was 84.
DH's mom is 15 years younger than her husband, and my parents are both in their late 50's. This is the first loss of a parent for either of us, which means it's also the first loss of a grandparent for my children.
My younger son doesn't remember a time when Paw-paw wasn't sick and bed-ridden. Thankfully, he has memories of his seeming lucid and smiling. My older son does vividly remember his grandfather when he was healthy. He remembers trips to the zoo and playing in the car with his grandparents, who would spend hours letting him pretend to drive.
DH had time over the weekend to talk with the boys about what was coming, about how he was thankful to have had time to emotionally prepare himself for this loss, as best he could. I think it was beneficial for the boys to get that talk with Dad.
When I told them last week that Paw-paw was gravely ill, they were sad and teary. It had been coming for days, and we wanted them to be aware of what was happening. When the morning came that I had to break the final news to them, they took it completely in stride.
It wasn't that they weren't saddened by the news. DH and I had prepared them as best we could for what was coming, and I guess we did our job. I'm sure there will be more tears in the time surrounding the funeral, but for now the boys are continuing on with their daily, summer boyhood.
My older son asked, though, "Why do people always say 'passed away' or 'gone on'? Why can't they just say people died? They die."
He's absolutely right. We've been gentle in our sharing of information with the boys, letting them lead with questions and thoughts, trying not to overwhelm them with details. There was no need for sugar-coating or euphemism with them. They understand the cycle of life part as completely as they can at their young ages.
My son also asked why people get so sad when someone dies. "If you believe in God and Heaven, then you believe you'll see them again one day. If you don't, it's just what happens in life, and it happens to everyone. What's there to be sad about?"
This is when I see that he doesn't have the life experience or emotional IQ to understand yet that grief is about the griever, not the deceased. It's about the complication of memory and emotion and neurotransmitters, about the process of dealing with loss. In some ways, I'm really thankful that the boys have made it this far into their burgeoning lives without knowing these things. Grief is hard enough to process as an adult; I can't imagine what it would've been like to deal with it as a child, no matter how intelligent or mature I (or they) may have been.
What I do know is that DH and I will help them get through this, and vice versa. The bond we have with our children is deep and strong. They are relying on us to set the emotional tone for the next few days and weeks. Knowing our sons are emotionally safe and secure within those bounds to be able to handle this loss will be reassuring. And if any of us falters, there will be hand-holding and hugs—and a lot of love—to help us get through.