Fear Of Death

It started a few nights ago. Out of the blue, Son No 3 came up to me, saying he did not want me to die. I had absolutely no idea what brought that on. I gave him a hug but asked him why did he say that - but he was unable to answer. On my part, being scrupulously honest, I was unable to promise him that I would not die. I also could not tell him that death was something everyone would go through sooner or later. I was stuck for words.

But that was not it. Over the last couple of days, this thought of death continued to harbour on No 3's mind. He asked me how old I was and then after some quick mental calculation, stated, "When you are 80-something, and I am 40-something, I still don't want you to die. I want you to take care of me..." Another occasion: "If somebody is sick, and cannot get better, will he die?"

Is this pre-occupation with death natural for a five-year-old? My other two boys have never voiced such fears. As always, I turned to my literature for answers. And indeed, it is there. Fear Of Death. Under the chapter about Five-Year-Olds. Other documented Fears: (these I know) thunder, heavy rains, sirens, the dark, solitude.

On talking about Death, the book advised that we tell the children that "we will be together for a long, long time". Ya, I should have thought about that. It is also a good idea to have a gradual learning experience about Death, which Son No 3 had when our pet hamster and fishes died. Another "learning experience" with Death was when we went to the funeral of my Aunt in Telok Intan in August this year. The trip left an impression on them, I know, as they sometimes still made references to that trip.

I do not consciously bring up the subject of Death but it happens. I sometimes discuss current events with my sons. For example, I remember showing newpaper photos of the Sichuan earthquake to the boys, the devastation it caused and the thousands who died. They were particularly relieved to find that there is no earthquake in Malaysia, Singapore and Australia. They were scared to die.

And yesterday, when the news of the white tigers killing the zookeeper in Singapore was splashed in the local newspapers, I also unthinkingly pointed out the news item to the children. Their reactions were contrasting. Son No 2 was impressed by the tigers' strength (he probably did not see the reality of the situation and treated it more like a fantasy), Son No 3 asked whether the tigers were bad (I explained to him that the zookeeper should not have gone into the enclosure - "huh...oh, you mean the cage?"), Son No 1 gave his classic response (a nonchalant grunt).

But all this talk about Death reminded me of a movie I watched when I was a young girl. The movie, Sunshine (1973 - ya, I just googled it!), was about a young mother having terminal cancer. In anticipation of her death, and to leave something for her young daughter to remember her by, she made self-recordings on tapes that would be played during each of her daughter's future birthdays. For example, for the daughter's 16th birthday, long after the mother is gone, the daughter would still be able to hear her mother's voice when she played the 16th birthday tape. The show left a deep impression on me and many others, I believe. The *sob* factor was very high and John Denver sang the song from the show, "Sunshine On My Shoulders".

Now, if I had known that I would die, I would follow the example and similarly leave words for the children, but in the form of letters - instead of recording videos - words being my forte, not speech. And if death was unanticipated and I were not around to watch the children grow up, they should be able to read this blog of mine and hear my thoughts. And they should feel safe and protected in the love that I have for them and be assured that I would always be there for them, if not physically, then in spirit.

Background music: "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.