Bye Bye Opa

My father-in-law died two weeks ago after a valiant struggle with leukemia. Our daughter Annabelle knew her grandfather as "Opa" and we saw him in Michigan several days before he passed away, knowing it may be the last time we would see him.

To be honest, his frailty and oxygen prongs freaked her out a little but it was nevertheless one of those precious moments you can be forever thankful for. He was so rapt to see us, and especially her. As a good friend said to me, "Can you imagine how nice it would be if you're that age and dying, to hold a little girl in your arms?"

It's an interesting experience to be introducing the concept of death and dying to a child at such a young age. The first time Annabelle really grokked the concept of death was around six months ago, when she was three-and-a-half. I can't recall exactly what triggered the conversation; it may well have been Opa, but what was so poignant was her deep despair and disappointment at discovering that none of us would live forever. I decided there was no point in trying to disguise this fact and that by confronting it head on she would overcome the initial trauma of that knowledge and move forward more confidently. (By the way, don't try this technique at home unless you're prepared for a lot of tears and are able to let your child cry in your arms without trying to quell the emotion - you might want to read psychologist Aletha Solter's books on children and crying for more tips on this method).

In any case, it really seemed to work. Annabelle was able to take the death of her grandfather pretty much in her stride. The day he died she seemed unusually angry for a couple of hours. Once my husband and I managed to talk about it with her she broke down crying and said to her dad, "But he will always be in your heart." (Never mind that this was a line she borrowed from the movie Brother Bear 2 - it certainly worked for us!). She was also a great comfort at the funeral and during the closing of the casket, when her grandmother was peaking with grief, Annabelle impulsively ran up to her and hugged her.

Now that the rawness of his passing has gone, Opa lives on in our hearts, and for Annabelle through a fascination with Jesus (he was a deeply spiritual and religious man). When they put the coffin into the hearse after the funeral Annabelle asked me, "Are they going to put him on the cross now?". Yesterday she was jumping off a stool onto some cushions and flying through the air with her arms outspread. We'd capture photographs of her doing this and at one point she said; "I look like Jesus!" and a minute later, "Does that make you think about Opa daddy?"

That kind of innocence and directness is precious beyond belief.