Death Personified

Scythe-wielding, cloaked in black and with hour glass in hand - the Grim Reaper is probably one of the most recognizable dark symbols on mortality. If he had a singular purpose, it would be to bring a human "face" on the concept of death.

In the Kim Kasa, however, the grim reaper looks like this:

 See the cute kid holding the bunny purse? Her mommy brings up the grim topics - sans scythe. Lol.

One of the hardest things I've had to grapple with is HOW to tell my kids that their grampa is dying. At 3 years-old, I don't feel that much can be addressed with Jolie. Jailyn, on the other hand, is a whole other can of hooooolllly craaaaap.  Jai is far too young to know the (whole) truth, too intuitive to accept my futile lies, and too perceptive to ignore the chaos around her. She is smarter than me - but I know enough not to have a battle of wits as the unarmed man.

Aware of the short time frame we're facing, Jon and I devised a plan. We decided that I would lead the conversation - but allow Jailyn to decide on the pace. When prompted with questions during our bedtime routine,  I casually mentioned my dad's failing health - using passive words like "Grampa's feeling sicky" a lot. I allowed time to go by and would say "Grampa is still really sicky." The intensity increased with each passing week until I finally said, "The doctors said that grampa is not going to get better." 

I remember that conversation distinctly. It's kinda hard to forget. :(

"What does he have?" Jailyn's eyes were lined with tears as she frantically searched my face for a reply.  I stared back knowing that she already knew my answer.  "Is it cancer?" 

How did she even know what cancer was??? 

"Yes," I said quietly.

"What kind? There are different types, right?"  Her lips trembled as she posed the question. 

God give me strength....

"It's in his pancreas...his stomach." I finally stammered. There's that familiar hollow pain in the center of my gut again.

"Ok.... but miracles happen, right? Grampa said he was told he'd live for 18 years and that was 25 years ago.  So his cancer could be cured, right? Mommy?"

Good grief. I can't believe she actually listened when dad said that to us during Christmas!

"Yes, Jailyn, miracles do happen - but  every circumstance is a little different. He's sick. Like, really, really sick. Ultimately God does decide what happens in the end. Hope is definitely something we should hold on to." 

Why couldn't I be somewhere else at that exact moment?!?!?

My heart ached because I knew that this was one of those pivotal moments that will change my baby girl forever. I began to cry. I wept for my dad. I wept for myself. I wept for Jailyn. I let my tears flow bec. I wanted to let her know that it was ok to cry.  Jailyn looked scared.

"Are you telling me that he's probably going to... die?"

OMG. HOW THE F*CK AM I SUPPOSED TO ANSWER THAT?!?! 

I nodded my head. "Yes....probably."

Then came a wave of impossible questions to answer:

"Will grampa see me graduate from high school?  Will he be here for my birthday? Or Christmas? Will he be here to see Jolie turn 4? He would want to see that, wouldn't he?" 

I shook my head. "I don't know." She glared back at me - completely unsatisfied.  "No," I continued, "I don't think that he will be. I'm sorry, baby."

I remember stroking her hair. Dad has always loved her beautiful hair. 

She and I cried and cried together that night. I assured her that she didn't do anything to hasten my dad's illness - nor could she change the outcome at this point. I told her that she could lay her worries on me and her daddy - and that we will carry them for her for as long as she needed.

*********

I don't know if being honest was the "right" thing to do or not. I just felt like lying to her would scare her more. I want her to trust us. Jon and I need to support our girls and let them know that - at the very least - it's ok to cry.

I hate cancer.