Death and danger are on my mind. On many lampposts throughout Kensington and Windsor Terrace, there are signs regarding a missing boy, 8-year-old Leiby Kletzky. That same boy was murdered and dismembered, parts of his body found Wednesday morning in a home just a few blocks away from where I live. This is the home of the suspect, 35-year-old Levy Aron, who confessed to the killing, the home that I have passed several times with my own children to and from daycare.
For the last couple of days, there have been scores of police, media, and general spectators around here. Helicopters have been loudly flying above. While my and the neighbors’ children run, scoot, skip happily up and down the block together, we parents and caretakers talk in quiet volume about this horrific event. We glance more frequently and watchfully at the children, our fears and concerns for their safety more pronounced. While I usually feel safe in this neighborhood, I realize there is no limit to human suffering and that it has no boundaries, does not discriminate and lives in any and every neighborhood. Though we all suffer, it is so unfair for a family to lose a child in this way. I feel such sorrow for the family and hope for strength and love to help them survive this loss.
I am glad the suspect is in custody and is being tried. Many families whose children go missing do not have such swift “closure”, a clear conclusion to their children’s fates. However, I still feel unnerved, the brutal death still hovering heavily in the air, the energy of the neighborhood dampened, my love for my children accentuated, my hope for their safety a mere gossamer thread, not strong enough to ensure that they will lead long, healthy lives void of severe tragedy.
I wonder if parents are more deeply unsettled by events like this; we must all have something in common, that our biggest fear is losing our children, a fear that never ends in life. It makes me better able to comprehend the worry my parents have had of my brother and me throughout our lives, and that even though we are well into adulthood, their worry for us hasn’t changed. It also makes me think that every birthday a child has really is something for parents to celebrate with great awe and appreciation.
Interestingly, I am not the only one with death on the mind. Lately my daughter who is 4 years old has been wondering about death, asking a variety of questions and making many comments about it. She has said things like, “When you die, your heart stops beating. I don’t want to die.” And “when you have a lot of birthdays, you die. I don’t want to have more birthdays and die.” My response is usually, “everything and everyone die,” and “nothing lasts forever” (then she asks what forever means and that is difficult to explain). Once she even expressed some adult rationalizing when she said that if no one died, there would be too many people on earth.
Most recently, she asked: “when we die do we come back?” This is a really hard question; I said that our bodies do not come back but that our spirit lives in others, then I tried to talk about compost. Again, I was not prepared with a great response. As a somewhat atheist with Buddhist tendencies whose only religion is poetry, I find it impossible to give one, straight-forward answer to this. She has even asked, “Mommy, what is kill?” I wonder if she has picked up this word from the news or from people speaking of Leiby Kletzky. I just give her the basic definition, to end a life, then this leads to the question of what is a life. How deeply should I be discussing these questions? I think they are such meaningful questions and should be explored little by little, pointing out different things here and there. I think I will focus on the question of what is life for a while. This will allow us to focus on the more positive aspects.
How else should I be approaching the topic of death though? Sometimes we use the book Nana Upstairs, Nana Downstairs by Tomie de Paola as an example of how death is a natural part of aging. This book centers around a young boy’s relationship with his grandmother and great-grandmother. And though the great-grandmother dies, de Paola does a great job of balancing deep love and aching sadness from losing someone while showing that the boy is still safe and cared for.
There are so many different forms of death, some I feel more comfortable confronting than others. I can point out the sunflower that died in its pot or the roses that perished in its vase. When we explain why we are vegetarian, we say we don’t like to eat animals that were killed. But I definitely will not talk to her about murder and the killing of children.
Instead, I think I should try to instill the importance of taking care of life in all its forms. She helps me water the plants, tries to avoid killing the ants outside. We try to be healthy by eating the right foods although she almost always refused to eat vegetables. I often incorporate her in my exercise and remind her that she needs to exercise every day. We talk about caring about others and being kind. She throws her trash in the garbage and doesn’t litter.
In play, my daughter lies down and says she’s dead. Then I have to try different ways of bringing her back to life: kissing, tickling, or using a magic potion. Having her father play the prince who kisses her to life always resuscitates her.
I wonder what other children her age say and ask about death. I wonder if we have allowed her to watch too many movies where death is portrayed in a violent and fantastical way. She has watched Star Wars 4-6, Finding Nemo, Princess Mononoke, all with graphic scenes of dying and killing. Have we exposed her to these films too early? Is there such thing as exposing children too soon to death? Perhaps my daughter will be less naïve and vulnerable as she gets older. I think it’s important that she is aware of different aspects of the world.
It seems like she has a healthy view of death so far. As she gets older, this topic will become more difficult and complicated and that I should encourage her to further think and question rather than trying to give her the solid, utmost definition of life and death because I don’t think there is one.
Any recommendations on texts or questions on this topic would be greatly appreciated.
