Death from the Perspective of a 4-year old

For some reason, 4 seems to be the age of death exploration around here. We have conversations like this one all the time:

Turtle: Mom, wouldn't it be crazy if dead people were walking around the USS Midway [we visited there recently]?

Me: That would be crazy. But how would a dead person walk around the USS Midway?

Turtle: So, when your hair turns white, you are alive for a little bit and then you die. Right Mom?

Me: For some people, yes.

Turtle: I wish I died when I was a baby. That would be crazy.

Me: Oh my goodness, that would be crazy and I'm very glad you didn't die when you were a baby.

Turtle: I want to live forever, because I don't want anybody to get my stuff.

Me: Well, Sweetie, you get to say who gets your stuff when you die.

Turtle: I will write it down on a piece of paper who gets my stuff and I will donate my body to somebody who wants it.

Me: That's a good idea.

Turtle: Will you donate your body?

Me: Yes

Turtle: Will Daddy?

Me: Yes

Turtle: Yes, then we can be together. When they burn my body will they study it?

Me: Probably not.

Turtle: They will study my body. [This seems to be very important to her. She wants people to study her body for  thousands of years like they do with mummies. I wonder if legacy will always be important to her.]


It is very eery to discuss the death of your child with your child and talk about donating her organs and burning her body. I don't like it at all, but I try to answer honestly. On vacation, she asked about my Dad and I explained to her that my Dad died before she was born. This came up  because we were looking at photo albums last week and she asked who he was when she saw his picture. She was quite curious why she hadn't met him. So, we discussed how he died over breakfast.

Here is the scene: Cerulean blue sky, palm trees swaying in the breeze, a water fall and pond, ducks walking between the tables, and the blue pool in the distance. Turtle is coloring her menu and my husband and I are enjoying our coffee sitting back in thickly cushioned chairs when we suddenly find ourselves talking about death (how do kids do that?).

Turtle: How did he die?

Me: He died of something called cancer.

Turtle: Can I see a picture of cancer?

Me: I don't have any pictures of cancer.

Turtle: Can you look it up on your phone?

I've been stalling looking it up, because I don't know quite how to explain to a 4-year old what a cancer cell is and why some are deadly and some are not.  My husband thinks I bit off more than I can chew by telling her my father died of cancer, and that I should have just said he died of some nameless disease. But for some reason I can't do that. If I have an answer I want to give it to her. I try to find a way to talk with her in simple terms, but I don't want to ever lie to her and a lie of omission is still a lie.

So, I find myself having some of the most uncomfortable conversations of my life with my 4-year old about organ donation, wills, burning bodies and ash scattering, deadly diseases, and gray hair.

Me no likey!!