R.I.P.

Parents often come to the library when there has been a death -- most commonly a pet, sometimes a family member -- seeking books to help. We have lots; I keep bibliographies on hand and am grateful that we own works that might comfort a grieving child.

A few years ago, I read an article that argued that it is essential for children to anticipate these events before they occur. All children need to hear stories of love, loss and survival long before they experience loss. This mental rehearsal, through books, helps a child know in advance that he or she may face the loss of a beloved pet or aged relative. By showing that these kinds of losses can be endured, the child can say, "I know I will be okay."

I try to touch on this subject with children at all grade levels every year. This week, I read aloud Murphy and Kate to 5, 6 and 7 year olds, a story about a girl whose dog dies after a long and happy life. I noted that a book can be very sad; indeed, it can make us cry; and yet we can get deep pleasure out of such a book. Our discussion afterward was solemn and tearful as children raised their hands and told of their losses. Some children were overcome with emotion as they recalled a dog, a cat or even a fish. I was touched when children who had not lost a loved one raised their hands and expressed sadness at the loss of their great-great grandmother, whom neither they nor their parents ever knew; it was clear they wanted to be part of our shared experience of talking about losses. There was some disagreement among these young ones about whether a new pet could actually replace an old one, with one child concluding, "Well, I know you can't get a new grandma, that's for sure." And finally, we talked about the loss last month of the campus cat, New Boy. His grave on campus (above) is covered with flower petals and plastic gems. MaryLynn Cullen, our coordinator, removed a dollar bill (!) that some child placed there in loving memory.



(Left: Our Tuesday volunteer, Nancy, reads aloud, by request, The Accident, about a boy whose dog is hit by a car.)










Last week, as I concluded National Poetry Month, I shared a brief history of the strange life of Emily Dickinson and an assortment of her poems, some whimsical ones about nature and some morbid ones about death. The children, ages 10-12, were startled: this may be their first encounter with poetry focused on human mortality. One girl returned to her teacher and reported, "Natalie told us that every single day we are alive, we are one day closer to our death." She was totally creeped out. What she failed to note was my remarks about why poets do this: By being deeply aware that we die, we can decide to live our lives with greater awareness, purpose and joy.