Little philosopher: Talking of death with my 5-year-old


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Reading about Stephen Hawking’s death reminded me, for some reason, about my 5 year old’s obsession with death. This originated when he attended a funeral with me about 6 months ago, the funeral of a very young mother who left behind two kids quite close to my son’s age. It originated from him watching her still body and everyone else crying around it. It is far, far too early for him to be watching this spectacle. My mom never let me go to funerals and the first funeral I attended was after my marriage. I still remember how crushed I felt at seeing the silent face in the shroud, even though the lady was not closely related to me. For a 5 year old, the spectacle must have a profound impact.

Since then he often asks me whether I will die and whether he will, too. Importantly, the questions on death are always about him and me, never anyone else. And I tell him, yes, we will. Everyone dies. But I soften the blow by saying that we won’t die until we live to be a hundred years. I will be a hundred at least before I die, and you will be a hundred or more before you do ! He is satisfied for the time being, but the next day he will talk of death again– his and mine.
I hear him out patiently and answer his questions again. Questions on the body, questions on the spirit, questions on graves and questions on the afterlife. And one day, his baby-sitter who lives with us could bear it no more.

“Kyun karte rehte ho aisi batein?” She interjected restlessly, clearly distressed. Why do you keep saying such things?

And I was struck by how I, despite being his mother, never stopped him and never felt disturbed by his talks of our deaths. Talking and thinking of death has been a way of life with me. I am not perturbed by this, I do not consider it an ill omen and I do not feel afraid. I can talk calmly about death. Because I have been dealing with it since I was 9.

And yet it is sometimes surprising to me that my son can talk about it at 5.

In all of these 5 years, for the first time I realised what I enjoy the most with my boy. Quiet, heart to heart talks on topics far too philosophical for 5 year olds.
And I remember then, that I used to call him ‘little philosopher’ , for the expression on his face when he was 5 days old.