One pet rabbit dead.
Explaining death to a child
Harder than I thought.
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Charlie
Jan. 2009 – July 2010
Yesterday, the Little Lady and I shared a “first experience:” the loss of a pet.
Sure, I’ve lost fish and hermit crabs before, but this was the first time a “real” pet — one that we could caress and hold — died.
Of course, I have an advantage over the Little Lady — I understand the concept of death. Her little three-year-old mind is having a hard time grasping the idea.
“CHAAARRRRRLIEEE!“
Several times last night, she skipped out onto the back porch and yelled for her bunny. Each time, I picked her up and reminded her Charlie was dead.
“I’m sad Charlie died on me. He died a lot.“
She never cried — I don’t think it was “real” enough for that. But, I did. Not heaving sobs but quiet tears when my husband wasn’t looking.
Tears for poor Charlie, who is now buried at the base of our Wisteria vine . . . and who had his first time “in the rain” last night.
Tears for my daughter — who doesn’t fully understand the loss of her pet but is still sad he is gone.
Tears for the milestone — our first brush with death, our first serious conversation, our first moment that wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine.
