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Coping with death

By CHAN LILIAN

SOME years ago, my husband and I thought it would be a great idea to have our two older children keep pets. We started with goldfish. That was the first lesson my children learnt about living things, caring for them and learning to make them part of the family.  

However, soon the joy of having Goldie, Blackie and the whole fish gang turned into one sombre “funeral” after another. Every time a fish died, we would dig a hole, bury the fish in it, mark the spot with a stone and bid Mr Fish “bye-bye”. 

From fishes we advanced to rabbits, then hamsters. A few outstanding pets remained in my children's memories long after they had been buried. Often, my children would ask if rabbits went to heaven, too. 

Those pet funerals turned out to be very useful lessons in life for my children. Young minds like theirs cannot grasp the meaning of death. When they watch cartoons, characters die and live again the next moment. But giving their precious pets funerals taught them that once a pet dies, it no longer exists physically. 

When my two older children were six and four years old, my beloved mother who was their primary caregiver died unexpectedly. One day she was taking care of them and the next, she was gone. They had depended totally on her and grandma had doted on them.  

When they woke up that morning, we told them calmly that grandma had died during the night. Then came their endless questions like: “Why does she want to die? Is it because she doesn’t want to take care of us?” “Who is going to make barley water for us when we come back from kindy?”  

My mother was given an elaborate funeral according to Taoist rites. As I was pregnant then, I was not allowed to participate in most of the rituals, including the burial. But I saw to it that my two children witnessed the casket being put into the grave. After the funeral, we often passed by the graveyard and my children were comforted with the knowledge that only grandma’s body was in the casket, but her soul was now free.  

Though their daily routine was greatly disrupted with the change of environment, they coped pretty well.  

Several years later and with the addition of my third son, they encountered the death of their paternal grandmother who died after a long illness.  

This was followed by the death of their favourite kindergarten teacher, Colleen, a wonderful young woman who met with an accident while travelling to school one day. 

We took all our three children to the funeral parlour to pay their last respects to her. At that time, my third son who was about five years old was rather solemn with the absence of his teacher; the usually chatty boy had fewer things to tell after school. Nevertheless, I assured him that teacher was probably teaching all the children in Heaven.  

Several years later, he could still remember dear Colleen and wanted to visit her in the columbarium where her ashes were kept. 

Not too long ago, my friend’s mother-in-law had a heart arrest in front of her grandchildren. Her friend’s hubby who is from the medical profession tried to revive his mother but unfortunately, she passed away. My friend’s sons were only six and three then.  

My friend was very sad and emotional, and at a loss as to how to pacify her two sons who were very close to their grandma. 

I suggested that she allow her children to talk and express their feelings as much as they like. Two months later, my friend was very surprised when her three-year-old boy brought up the subject again. He told her that he was very sad because grandma had died and he could not see her anymore. She encouraged him to say what was on his mind and assured him that it was all right to feel sad and to miss grandma. 

Her little boy was given lots of cuddles and hugs to make him feel secure. She also told her son that though grandma was not around, he could still love and remember grandma in his heart, and see her photos. The boy was comforted to see my friend wearing his grandma’s bracelet. 

My three older children encountered a death much worse than losing their grandmothers or teacher: they lost their baby brother, Vincent. They were in Penang while Vincent and I were in Kuala Lumpur when it happened. At that time, I prepared myself with my most composed voice and told them individually over the phone. 

As they had not anticipated Vincent’s death, I had to find the most acceptable explanation for them. I told them that their little brother had decided that he wanted to go to Heaven and play. When we brought his body back, all my three children had no qualms or fear, and took turns to carry the little body to the funeral parlour. 

However, during the funeral, my sons were terribly sad and one of them cried inconsolably. My husband and I were then too emotional to explain further or talk to them. Luckily, their trusted paediatrician was there to comfort them by telling them that Vincent was now a happy angel in Heaven and was playing with all the cute little angels. They witnessed the cremation ceremony and the scattering of the ashes at sea the following day. Children being children, they had a good time travelling in the sampan and enjoyed the trip without feeling too sad about scattering the ashes. 

My husband and I had to put aside our emotions and concentrate on making sure that our three children had plenty of things and activities to keep them entertained. Though they did see me crying at times, they coped pretty well.  

However, we mention Vincent in our conversations each day and, on special occasions, my children would release helium balloons and make wishes for Vincent. 

After the arrival of another baby, Matthew, we continued to make Vincent a part of the family. My seven-year-old son, David, would often pray and ask God to let Vincent go to His giant castle and play in the giant playground. David also asked me how he was to supposed recognise Vincent if he ended up going to Heaven when he was an old man.  

Looking back, I was seven when my father died. Being 10 to 14 years younger than my older siblings, I was terrified of all the goings-on because everyone in the family, especially my mother, cried almost continuously. I did not know why everyone was acting like that and could not understand why they were so sad. 

Until today, I can still remember vividly the uncomfortable sack-cloth mourning clothes I had to wear and the long distance I had to walk to the cemetery. I can even remember the smell of the hurricane lamps that we lit every night. 

I have a friend who lost her sibling when she was small and her family life changed dramatically after that. Another friend related to me that her older sister had died when she was a newborn but her did not tell her about this dead sibling. When she was an adult, she started having dreams of a baby in the ICU. Though some quarters may view this as a visitation from her dead sister, I believe she may have heard a lot about her dead sibling when she was small and only started recalling it as an adult.  

I know several bereaved parents who would often remind their children of an older sibling who had passed away. Even though their children were not born yet when this older sibling died, they made sure that the older sibling was often in their conversation and given a place in their hearts. 

Based on my own childhood experiences and that of others, I always urge my friends who are bereaved mothers to pay special attention to their other children. Never tell a child that their loved one died because a Higher Being has taken the person back. Never give the young child an impression that the person died because he/she was too old, too sick, in too much pain, etc. The child may be terrified of death and of the Higher Being because of this wrong interpretation. Also, avoid telling a small child that grandma has gone into a deep sleep and will not wake up again. The child will feel insecure and may think that you have died each time he sees you sleeping. 

Though it is hard to explain to very small children, it can also be hard to deal with older children. Children at a certain age may not be as inquisitive or ask innocent questions like younger children.  

I always remind my two older children about their maternal grandma and ask them if they still remember the times they spent with her. Giving them a chance to talk will reveal the feelings hidden in their hearts. At the same time, we often joke about their baby brother Vincent. I reassure them that Vincent is indeed in a wonderful place and independent with wings to fly. 

It is unfortunate that my two older sons, Jeffrey and Michael, had to experience so many losses of loved ones at such a young age. However, I believe that they will grow up to be very calm and wise adults as a result of what they have been through.  

Though loved ones who are left behind may mourn and grieve, and though the parting is extremely painful, it is made bearable with faith. The promise of being reunited one day will keep the grieving party going, though the journey may be difficult.  

Not everyone can see death as this simple transition but I have encountered so many losses in my own life and that of others, that I have learnt to accept it that way.  

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