1 Preschooler and a Funeral
We recently attended the funeral of my husband's cousin. It was a sudden death, Chris was a vibrant, 45 year old man, who was loved by many, so his funeral was a somber one. Our almost 4 year old son had a lot of questions about it. We did our best to prepare him for it. He and our 10 month old daughter attended with us, we didn't have any real babysitter options. We figured people would understand, but I know my son. In the days prior, I was having a lot of anxiety about what he might say or do. I told a few people about my worries and was reassured, "It'll be fine, I bet it will bring some levity to the sad occasion. Maybe it will make people laugh." Me: "Hmmmm, okay."
It was pouring rain that morning, just getting there and getting inside was a challenge. We took our place in a long line of people at the visitation, which was just before the funeral service, inside the church. As we were waiting, about halfway to the front, with pews full of people on either side of us, my son loudly asked, "Where's dead Chris?" I should clarify, my son doesn't have a quiet voice, an inside voice, or a voice that whispers. He is a loud talker, in all circumstances. I call it Luke loud. I bent down and whispered, please don't say "dead Chris" again, and instead just call him Chris. Then I said he was is in a casket at the front of the church. Loud son: "I want to see him. Where is his body? Is his body inside that BOX?!" I answered, yes, his body is inside the box, which is called a casket, but his soul went to heaven. Loud son: "How did his soul get to heaven? Is it invisible? How did it get through the roof?" Me: "Yes, it's invisible, it went through the roof." Loud son: "So his bones stayed in the basket?" Me: "Yes, in the casket" Loud son: "What about his skin? Does his skin stay on his bones?" Me: "Yes, let's not talk now, let's be quiet. It's almost time to give hugs. If you want to give a hug to someone who looks sad, that would be nice." Loud son: "Ok Mommy." He's a great hugger, but he didn't give anyone hugs.
My husband was a pallbearer, and sat on the opposite side of the church for the service. About 5 minutes into the funeral service, I left with the kids since I couldn't get Luke to stop asking questions, (this time, mostly about God, and where God lives), but he said he has to go potty anyway, so we went. I found out there's a cry room from my husband's sister, who was in there with her 1 year old. Phew. We went in there. I was relieved, now Loud son could ask all the questions he wanted. I was holding the baby, who had been trying to fall asleep for her 10 minute morning nap since we arrived. After taking him to go potty, Loud son wanted to go back in the church with Daddy. I explained that we're staying there instead. My sister-in-law and I both tried to make it seem cool to be in there, but he disagreed. He started wailing. The reason for the crying changed many times. I miss Daddy. My stomach hurts. I don't like this room. I want to be in there (the church). I got him to lay next to where I'm sitting on a bench, with the baby on my shoulder. I had his head in my lap, and tried to comfort/quiet and eventually threaten/bribe him, but the cycle of crying continued in waves for 15-20 minutes, at times getting super loud. This is very unusual for him, it almost felt like he was absorbing the emotion of the everyone there. I wasn't worried, I was in a cry room, no one could hear us. He wasn't listening to reason, but he'd settle down eventually, and I hoped I'd be able to listen to some of the service. Suddenly, an older man in a suit opened the cry room door, turned off the light, and closed the door. There were fake candles in there on the wall, but we were basically in the dark. I know that the man saw us, I had no idea what was going on. I decided to try and use it, "Uh oh, honey, I think we're being too loud, you'd better quiet down so we don't have to leave." It didn't work, the crying continued. The priest invited everyone to come walk past the casket, to say their final goodbyes. Then I was glad the light wasn't on, the cry room is located in the back of the church, so as people walked back to their pews, it would have been like a spotlight was on us in the dark church. I had a crazy, almost 4 year old, mid-meltdown, flailing on me, and a baby still trying to fall asleep on my shoulder. My husband's sister came back and told me that she saw the guy shut the lights off on us, and said to him "Sir, there are still people in there." She said the man responded, "I know, but people can see in there, I prefer to leave the lights off." Loud son said he wanted to go in there to say goodbye to Chris too. I said, "you can say bye to him from here." More crying. I saw a couple of children in the back rows of the church, sitting quietly. They looked to be around 5 or 6.
As the service was ending, I tried to get Loud son to pay attention to Daddy, who I explained had an important job as a pallbearer. Loud son was waving to Daddy, who attempted to wave back twice in a subtle way. At the exit, we reunited with my husband, who said "Was that Luke crying that whole time??" Turns out that cry room isn't soundproof. My husband said he could hear us from where he sat, in the 2nd row, and every row of the church was full of mourners. Oh. No. Everyone there heard Loud son's meltdown.
We drove in the long funeral procession to the cemetery, and as we gathered around the burial site, Loud son yelled, "I CAN'T SEE!"
I ended up feeling disappointed that, even though I was there, I missed the service entirely. As embarrassed as I felt when this was all happening though, I can laugh at most of this now. I know Chris would have laughed at this story, probably posted a comment. He had a wicked sense of humor. One of his oldest, and closest friends posted this comic on his Facebook page in the days following his death. Chris had given it to him long ago, and he knew how well it reflected his sense of humor.
It was pouring rain that morning, just getting there and getting inside was a challenge. We took our place in a long line of people at the visitation, which was just before the funeral service, inside the church. As we were waiting, about halfway to the front, with pews full of people on either side of us, my son loudly asked, "Where's dead Chris?" I should clarify, my son doesn't have a quiet voice, an inside voice, or a voice that whispers. He is a loud talker, in all circumstances. I call it Luke loud. I bent down and whispered, please don't say "dead Chris" again, and instead just call him Chris. Then I said he was is in a casket at the front of the church. Loud son: "I want to see him. Where is his body? Is his body inside that BOX?!" I answered, yes, his body is inside the box, which is called a casket, but his soul went to heaven. Loud son: "How did his soul get to heaven? Is it invisible? How did it get through the roof?" Me: "Yes, it's invisible, it went through the roof." Loud son: "So his bones stayed in the basket?" Me: "Yes, in the casket" Loud son: "What about his skin? Does his skin stay on his bones?" Me: "Yes, let's not talk now, let's be quiet. It's almost time to give hugs. If you want to give a hug to someone who looks sad, that would be nice." Loud son: "Ok Mommy." He's a great hugger, but he didn't give anyone hugs.
My husband was a pallbearer, and sat on the opposite side of the church for the service. About 5 minutes into the funeral service, I left with the kids since I couldn't get Luke to stop asking questions, (this time, mostly about God, and where God lives), but he said he has to go potty anyway, so we went. I found out there's a cry room from my husband's sister, who was in there with her 1 year old. Phew. We went in there. I was relieved, now Loud son could ask all the questions he wanted. I was holding the baby, who had been trying to fall asleep for her 10 minute morning nap since we arrived. After taking him to go potty, Loud son wanted to go back in the church with Daddy. I explained that we're staying there instead. My sister-in-law and I both tried to make it seem cool to be in there, but he disagreed. He started wailing. The reason for the crying changed many times. I miss Daddy. My stomach hurts. I don't like this room. I want to be in there (the church). I got him to lay next to where I'm sitting on a bench, with the baby on my shoulder. I had his head in my lap, and tried to comfort/quiet and eventually threaten/bribe him, but the cycle of crying continued in waves for 15-20 minutes, at times getting super loud. This is very unusual for him, it almost felt like he was absorbing the emotion of the everyone there. I wasn't worried, I was in a cry room, no one could hear us. He wasn't listening to reason, but he'd settle down eventually, and I hoped I'd be able to listen to some of the service. Suddenly, an older man in a suit opened the cry room door, turned off the light, and closed the door. There were fake candles in there on the wall, but we were basically in the dark. I know that the man saw us, I had no idea what was going on. I decided to try and use it, "Uh oh, honey, I think we're being too loud, you'd better quiet down so we don't have to leave." It didn't work, the crying continued. The priest invited everyone to come walk past the casket, to say their final goodbyes. Then I was glad the light wasn't on, the cry room is located in the back of the church, so as people walked back to their pews, it would have been like a spotlight was on us in the dark church. I had a crazy, almost 4 year old, mid-meltdown, flailing on me, and a baby still trying to fall asleep on my shoulder. My husband's sister came back and told me that she saw the guy shut the lights off on us, and said to him "Sir, there are still people in there." She said the man responded, "I know, but people can see in there, I prefer to leave the lights off." Loud son said he wanted to go in there to say goodbye to Chris too. I said, "you can say bye to him from here." More crying. I saw a couple of children in the back rows of the church, sitting quietly. They looked to be around 5 or 6.
As the service was ending, I tried to get Loud son to pay attention to Daddy, who I explained had an important job as a pallbearer. Loud son was waving to Daddy, who attempted to wave back twice in a subtle way. At the exit, we reunited with my husband, who said "Was that Luke crying that whole time??" Turns out that cry room isn't soundproof. My husband said he could hear us from where he sat, in the 2nd row, and every row of the church was full of mourners. Oh. No. Everyone there heard Loud son's meltdown.
We drove in the long funeral procession to the cemetery, and as we gathered around the burial site, Loud son yelled, "I CAN'T SEE!"
I ended up feeling disappointed that, even though I was there, I missed the service entirely. As embarrassed as I felt when this was all happening though, I can laugh at most of this now. I know Chris would have laughed at this story, probably posted a comment. He had a wicked sense of humor. One of his oldest, and closest friends posted this comic on his Facebook page in the days following his death. Chris had given it to him long ago, and he knew how well it reflected his sense of humor.
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