How a 3 Year Old Deals with Death

I guess I should stop being so surprised when Caitlyn grasps something beyond her years or acts more like a 10 year old than a 3 year old. Probably I should have anticipated that losing PawPaw would affect her deeply and profoundly. But, I didn't.

When we headed to Texas, the only thing we told Caitlyn is that PawPaw was sick, and we needed to go help him and Grammie so he could get better. We never talked about him dying because, frankly, that wasn't even in the cards at that point.

The first day we saw Steve at the hospital was fairly low-key. He was up and about, he could talk, he could walk and he looked like himself, for the most part. Caitlyn ran right over to his bed and climbed up next to him. She hugged him, and they did pirate faces. My mom has a picture of this, and I need a copy of it- priceless. Caitlyn told PawPaw all about our Disney trip, and she sang some songs for him. She expressed quite a bit of concern that his feet were swollen, and his shoes didn't fit. Lorelei gave PawPaw a hug and called out his name--a newly acquired skill she was excited to show off. We didn't stay long, maybe an hour, and then we left so Steve could rest.

I didn't expect her to be so concerned once we left the hospital. Normally when we visited Texas, there were times when we didn't see Steve everyday because he was at the lake or taking care of his parents. But, the very next day, Caitlyn was clamoring to see PawPaw. We went to Target to pick up some things, and she nearly threw a fit over finding shoes to fit PawPaw. She stood up in the cart and loudly INSISTED that he needed shoes to fit. In her little mind, there was something very concerning about him not having shoes, and she wanted to fix it. I wanted to ease her worries, but we couldn't find any shoes to fit him, and she worried over that all week.

On Thursday morning, the day after we were told there was not much else they could do for Steve, I took the girls to the hospital to see PawPaw one last time. I still hadn't said anything to Caitlyn about his state, other than that he was in a special room (ICU) and there were lots of machines helping him. When we got to the hospital, Steve was unconscious, but very agitated. It was a bit unnerving, even for me, so I was concerned about how Caitlyn would handle it. In true Caitlyn-style, she just barely hesitated before going to give PawPaw a hug. Even Lorelei patted his arm, cooing, "PawPaw." Caitlyn told Steve she loved him, and then she turned to me, with her great big blue eyes, and asked, "Mama, is PawPaw dying?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just gave her a hug and told her he was trying very hard to get better, but he might not be able to.

She was subdued until we got back to the car, and then she completely broke down. Not a toddler tantrum breakdown, but a heartbroken, grief-stricken sob fest. Her whole body shook as she cried and cried. She said she wanted PawPaw to be alive for a long time, and that she loved him. She cried about not being able to go to his work again, and she worried about Grammie. She screeched that she didn't want him to die. She told me she didn't like this. I tried for 15 minutes to hold it together and reassure her. And then, finally, I just cried right along with her. Actually, that seemed to help her. We were both sad and mad and hurting, and I think that made her feel better.

For the first time in a long time, I wished I had some sort of religious beliefs that would help me navigate this tough journey. I wished I could just tell her PawPaw would go to heaven, be happy and that we'd see him again someday. Instead, I told her that we would always have love and memories of PawPaw inside our hearts. I told her PawPaw would go back to being part of the Earth, and she seemed to like that. We talked about his soul (the part of him that made him PawPaw), and how his soul would be gone from his body. We talked about how we would not be able to see him anymore. Somehow, she came to the conclusion that since his bones weren't going anywhere, his bones would always love her.

The night before the funeral, Steve's brother (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Steve) walked into the house. Caitlyn was moping on the floor, very sad about her PawPaw. She glanced up to see Mike coming in, and she yelled, "PawPaw!" The split second of sheer joy was almost instantly replaced by sorrow when she realized her mistake. She just hung her head, and my heart broke even more than it already had.

A few days after the memorial service, I was programming our new car with OnStar. When the representative came on the line, we ran through some information, and then he put me on hold. Caitlyn asked me where the voice was coming from, and I told her it was like a phone in the car, and that the man was just in a place we couldn't see. She got really quiet for a moment, and then she shouted, "Mama! Mama! Call PawPaw, call Pawpaw!" How sad she was when I told her it didn't work that way.

She continues to talk about PawPaw and how much she misses him- she says he was her very best friend. The other day, she told me we needed to call Grammie to check on her. She was worried about Grammie being alone at home since Uncle Joey is in the Navy now, and PawPaw is gone. She constantly reassuring Lorelei that PawPaw's bones still love her, and a few days ago I found her behind the couch telling the cat that PawPaw would always be in his heart.

Last week, she told me that when she gets married, she wants to get married at the funeral home because PawPaw is there, and the flowers are so pretty.

I know that Caitlyn will remember PawPaw (because she really has an amazing memory), and for that, I am grateful. On the other hand, there are days that I would happily trade her understanding for something that brings a little less hurt and sadness to both of us.