Bedtime, last night:
The Girl: Daddy, when you die, can you move?
The Dad: No, honey, you can no longer move.
The Girl: Daddy, when you die, do you still have a birthday?
The Dad: Well, people can still remember and celebrate your birthday.
The Girl: When you die, can you still see?
The Dad: No, you can’t see, but you can’t do anything else either.
The Girl: When you die, do you sleep?
The Dad: Good question, but you cannot sleep. Some people say it’s like sleeping.
The Girl: Why do people die?
The Dad: Well honey, any and everything that lives has to die for a lot of reasons.
The Girl: Why did [classmate’s] grandmother die?
The Dad: I don’t know, but no one and nothing lives forever. It’s normal.
The Girl: When you die do you know it?
The Dad: I don’t know, honey. Maybe for a little bit, but probably not.
The Girl: When you die, can you come back?
The Dad: Nope. Once you’re dead you stay dead. Remember, it’s normal.
The Girl: Daddy, when am I going to die?
The Dad: Nobody knows, but not for a very, very, very long time, sweetie.
The Girl: When are you and mommy going to die?
The Dad: I don’t know, but not for a long, long time, sweetie.
The Girl: When you die can I die too so I can be with you?
The Dad: No, you don’t want to do that. But, that’s so sweet, honey.
