When Your Hamster Dies

My nephew had a rough week this week. Little boys his age (six) feel things so intensely and passionately... and that includes death.

Real young children deal with death with all the purity and innocence of their youth. They accept it for what it is. They don't over think it or over feel it. That comes with age...and school...and life.

Last weekend, my niece's hamster died. Lucky for her (I guess), it was her birthday this week, so getting a replacement was an easy win for my brother and his wife. My nephew dealt with the loss very pragmatically: he worked on the problem of how you dispose of a hamster in February in Chicago when the ground is frozen. We won't digress and get into the details of his proposed burial solutions. I think they involved trap doors, hidden rooms and the Temple of Doom!

No, this tale focuses on the arrival of a new pet. A replacement rodent was purchased by my niece and lived nicely with the family for about a day. Then they thought the pet was ill, took it to the vet, learned that the pet was fine but - OMG! - it was a boy!

Now here's the tipping point for my nephew. They returned the boy pet and replaced it with a girl! AYE! Ever hear of castration anxiety? Well...it exists...and my poor nephew suffered it. A boy returned and exchanged for a girl! Bless his heart. A little boys worst fear realized!

Thank goodness he has such an awesome dad who makes him feel safe and loved. And to heck with all those girls!

Dad's Brown Coat

I'm writing a new blog: http://www.mydadscoat.blogspot.com/.

It's about losing a parent. It's meant to be a thought starter...to get people sharing their experiences.

It's also a way for me to map my experience, with all its' complex feelings, thoughts, dreams, and....

This is dad's brown coat. The first blog entry explains it.

This week, keep our friend Jammie close in your thoughts.

Denial...Is a powerful thing

What do you do with a parent who isn't honest about dying?

Denial. The gap between what dad didn't say and what I didn't want to know.

What dad didn't say about being ill and what I refuse to know created a scenario that served us well in the short run and is now something I can feel guilty about for the long run!

It's not that dad didn't tell us anything. He just told us very little and most of what he told us was prefaced with "I couldn't understand the doctor..." or "they never tell me anything," or "I don't know what they are saying".

My responses were worse:

• He knows.
• He just wants to play games with us.
• He's smart enough to find out what is wrong with him.
• He never asked about mom's health when she was dying...why should I care about his?
• He's lonely and just want attention.

Shortly after dad's first surgery, he came for a visit to the States. My brother and I had to trap him in the car with us in order to probe and put dad through an inquest. It was 2006. Dad said he had a bump on his back removed, but had been hospitalized because the bleeding wouldn't stop. Then he told us they had to cut so deep, they got too close to his heart. We asked if they thought he had cancer. He didn't know. And I didn't push.

Denial.

The Things People Say...or Don't Say....

What did people say when your parent died?

When someone dies in your life, the people around you don't always know what to say.

I guess the people I knew were somewhat lucky. My dad died in England. My brother and I had traveled there to try and see dad before he died: we missed it by about six hours. Dad died early on a Saturday morning (3:30am), so Al and I had to stay a few days to make arrangements and handle the death details. Nothing can get done on a weekend.

So I was out of the country for almost a week and didn't return to the office for a few days past that. So most of the condolences I received were via email. That's actually good. It's less awkward. I mean...really. What do you say?

Most thoughtful: when someone asks "how are you doing?" then actually waits around long enough to listen to my answer.