By: Traci A. Jaime
As parents to young children, we become accustomed to answering all sorts of questions. At least twenty times a day, we are asked to explain what something is, or why it does what it does. Most of the time these inquiries are simple but there are moments, in our parenting careers, when we don’t have an explanation, and we have no choice but to admit to our children, that we are just as confused as they are.
I come from an extremely close family. Holidays, birthdays, summer vacations, even for no reason at all, we celebrate together. My children, not only have an amazing relationship with their grandparents, but they also spend a great deal of time with their entire extended family, including great aunts and uncles.
A few weeks ago, my uncle was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. This news hit our family, like a ton of bricks. It was unexpected and tragic. After a little bit of time had passed, I explained to my five year old daughter, that he is very sick. In the car one day, she asked “what kind of sick is he?” My husband and I looked at each other and the car grew silent. Again she asked, a little more impatient this time, “WHAT kind of sick is he?” After taking a deep breath, we told her the truth. “Uncle Marty has cancer.”
Our daughter had a bit of background on this topic, because two of my husband’s aunts, passed away from breast cancer, when he was a teenager. His family holds a memorial golf outing, in their honor, every year. She’s heard the words before, and it’s been explained to her in simple terms. Her response in that moment was exactly as I expected. She had a million questions but since we were almost to our destination, we simply promised to discuss it all later, and she accepted it.
Heading up to her room that night, I had a children’s book titled “When someone you love has cancer” gripped tightly in my hands. I thought I was prepared. My husband and I walked in together and I started to read. The book did a wonderful
job explaining what cancer is, in words a child can understand, but our little girl wanted to know more. “Why does he have cancer?”, “How did he get cancer?”, “Is he going to get better?”…… I could feel my heart nearly pounding out of my chest as one by one, I simply responded “I don’t know”. Then came the BIG ONE, the one I knew was on her mind, but I hoped she wouldn’t ask. “Is he going to heaven soon?” I knew in that moment the reason I didn’t want her to bring it up. It wasn’t for her sake, it was for mine. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold myself together. All we could do was lay in bed beside her, and just talk. We explained our feelings to her and she did the same.
After it was over, my feet barely touched the bottom step, before the tears began to roll down my face. This was one of those moments, when I’d rather listen to her ask me how to spell a word a hundred times, then not know what to say. We were honest, we did the best we could, and to my surprise she seemed to get it. She appeared to understand, that it was just a sad thing. It was something that even her parents, who normally know everything, could not explain. As heartbreaking as it was, I am so thankful that we had this dialogue with our daughter. She is observant. She listens in on grown up conversations. We didn’t want her to try and piece it all together on her own. We wanted her to know, that even if we don’t have all of the answers, we want to listen to her questions.