My son, B, is a soft-hearted boy.

He is stubborn and persistent, but he is also very sensitive. His eyes fill with tears when he listens to certain music or watches an emotional scene in a movie. He doesn’t always cry, but I can tell that he feels things deeply.

About seven months ago, we were having brunch as usual. I don’t remember exactly how the conversation got there, but somehow we started talking about how people die.

We didn’t say anything like, “What if Mommy dies?” or “What if Daddy dies?” We were simply talking about death in general.

Suddenly, my son burst into tears.

Not just a few tears. He was crying so hard and looked genuinely heartbroken. My husband and I were both surprised. We tried to calm him down, but nothing worked.

Eventually, he excused himself and said he needed some time alone. He went upstairs and continued crying.

A few minutes later, I followed him. He was still crying.

“I don’t want to die, Mom,” he said.

“You’re not dying, honey,” I told him.

But he kept repeating, “I don’t want to die.”

Then he added, “Someone is going to take all my toys if I die.”

Really? Was that the problem? 😳

But honestly, I had no idea what I was supposed to say. I just hugged him and kept telling him, “You’re not going to die. Don’t worry.”

Where Did This Fear Come From?

The first thing I did when I dropped him off at school on Monday was ask his teacher whether they had talked about death in class.

She said absolutely not. It wasn’t something they had discussed, and she hadn’t noticed the children talking about it among themselves either. She asked me to let her know if I figured out what had caused it.

I still had no clue.

Looking back now, however, there had been some signs.

Once, we were at a grocery store, and an elderly woman who looked as though she was in her nineties was paying at the cash register in front of us.

B asked me, “Are you going to become like that?”

I didn’t think much of the question. I laughed and said yes. But looking back now, I think he may already have been thinking about death—not just about growing old.

A few days after his big crying episode, I was washing the dishes when B came to me and asked whether there was any way for a person to never die.

He looked terrified. Before I could even answer, he burst into tears again.

He probably saw the answer on my face. My face was probably saying, I am very, very sorry baby, but the answer is no.

I felt so sad for him, but I also knew that I couldn’t lie. I hugged him and waited until he had calmed down.

Then I asked, “How did you start thinking about death? Where did that thought come from?”

“Do you want to know why I think about it?” he asked.

He took my hand and led me into the living room. I had no idea where we were going.

He stopped in front of a bookshelf where we keep books, DVDs and old photographs. Then he pointed to one particular picture.

It was a photo of me, my husband, his parents and his grandparents, taken before we were married.

B pointed to my husband’s grandfather.

“He is dead, isn’t he?”

I was surprised.

B had met his great-grandfather when he was almost two years old. His great-grandfather passed away last year, and B said that he still remembered him.

I don’t know exactly how B found out that he had died. B didn’t attend a funeral, so he probably overheard one of our conversations. I also don’t know exactly how he connected his great-grandfather to our brunch conversation.

But somehow, he had put together that old photograph, his memory of his great-grandfather and the fact that people eventually die.

What Are You Supposed to Say to a Five-Year-Old?

I started looking up how to talk to young children about death.

I learned that we shouldn’t lie by promising, “Don’t worry—we will never die.” At the same time, we don’t need to give young children more information than they can emotionally understand.

The advice I found was to be honest, use clear and simple language, listen to what the child is actually worried about and be prepared to answer the same questions repeatedly.

Young children often return to the same question as they slowly process what death means. Books about the death of a pet can also provide a gentler way to begin the conversation.

UNICEF’s guidance on talking to children about death also recommends being honest while avoiding confusing expressions such as “we lost someone” or “they went to sleep.”

Heaven, Rebirth—and More Tears

After some time had passed, B asked me about death again.

“I don’t want to die,” he said.

“I know,” I told him. “People become old, and at some point, people die. But that takes a very, very long time. You are so young. It is very, very far away.”

Then he asked what happens after someone dies.

“Some people believe that they go to heaven,” I said.

He started crying.

“I don’t want to go to heaven!”

Okay. Heaven was not helping.

“And some people believe that they can be born again as something else,” I continued. “Maybe a tree or a bird.”

He cried even harder.

“I don’t want to be a tree!”

“You could be born as another boy,” I offered.

“I don’t want to be another boy! I want to be myself!”

That broke my heart.

I hugged him and said, “You will be yourself for a long, long time.”

Will We Be a Family Again?

A few days later, he came to me with another question.

“If I die, am I going to heaven?”

I reminded him again that it was something very far away.

“But because you are a good boy,” I said, “yes, you will go to heaven after you die.”

“Are you going to be there too?”

My eyes filled with tears, but I smiled.

“Mommy is a good person too, so yes. Mommy will be there waiting for you.”

He was quiet for a few seconds.

Then he asked, “When Daddy and Mimi die, will they go to heaven too? Are we going to be a family again?”

That was the one I couldn’t handle.

I started to tear up.

“Yes,” I said. “We will always be a family.”

And we had a long hug.

Later, I told my husband about the conversation, and it made him cry too.

He Found the Answer That Comforted Him

I am not religious. I had never planned to teach him about God, heaven or anything else that I don’t fully understand myself.

I simply tried giving him different possibilities because I honestly didn’t know what to say. But out of all the explanations, he seemed to choose to believe in heaven.

Maybe that was the answer that made him feel the safest.

It wasn’t because heaven itself sounded exciting—he had already made it very clear that he didn’t want to go there yet. I think it was because he needed to believe that we would all be together again.

Once he found something he could believe, he seemed more comfortable with the idea of death.

He still thinks about it from time to time. He still asks questions occasionally.

But now, he doesn’t burst into tears.

Meanwhile, Mimi Had a Different Concern

Not long after that, Mimi, my three-year-old, asked me a similar question.

After everything that had happened with B, I immediately became nervous.

“Mommy, are you old?” she asked.

“Yes…I am old?” I answered, already bracing myself for where this conversation might be going.

“Are you going to fall off the tower?”

“Huh?”

“Like Mother Gothel?”

😬

For anyone who hasn’t watched Tangled, Mother Gothel is actually extremely old but stays young by using the magic in Rapunzel’s golden hair. As soon as Rapunzel’s hair is cut, Mother Gothel ages about a hundred years in two seconds, falls from the tower and turns into dust.

Apparently, that was Mimi’s understanding of what happens when Mommy gets old.

I honestly have no idea what goes on inside these children’s heads.

It is way too hard to keep up.