Here lately, my seven-year-old daughter has been asking me the dreaded question, “what happens after you die?”
Holy shit, child! How are you only now learning how to read but, you’re thinking about next level shit like this!?
These awkward questions usually come about when I’m washing her hair. There’s just something about your Momma pouring water over your head while you balance that rag on your eyes to keep the water out, that makes you ponder life!
So she looks at me and says, ”where do we go when we die? Where does Jesus live? What does Jesus look like? What happens when we die? I don’t want to die. I don’t want to get old. You can’t get old either, Mommy.”
I did my very best to absorb what she had just presented before me and to remember that I’m molding her future mindset with this very answer! All the while, keeping it in the back of my thoughts that I loathed how my Mother answered my questions with such an outburst, that I was left speechless (she still does this) and, that’s not what we’re doing this go round. So, my reading rainbow imagination was lit! I told her of Heaven and Hell, Yin and Yangs, of all the divine creatures that would guide her, of all the beautiful images she would see and all of the special people she would come back to. She had a checklist of people that she said out loud to me, mentally checking off if they’d be there, too. (I may or may not have had fun with this one! 😆 I know, I know. Shame on me)
I told her not to feel an ounce of fear over dying because she’s a little girl who’s blessed to be healthy and happy. That her brain and body are growing and it still has so much more growing to do before she needs to worry about mysterious things like death. She finally seemed satisfied with my answers because she started playing with her bath Barbie dolls. I was feeling really content with myself and my age appropriate answers, so I turned to get the toothpaste.
She looks at me while I’m putting toothpaste on her toothbrush, and says, ” how do babies get in your belly?”