Funeral

K went to her first funeral last month. It was also my first funeral. O's grandfather died at the age of 91. We felt this would be a good funeral for beginners. No one was especially sad at Zvi's passing - he was old, really old and blind and deaf and wanted to die. Saba Zvi, as he is called, died unexpectedly one night. O's parents called us in the morning to say the funeral was in the afternoon. K needed a crash course in death. We had to explain to her the following topics: death, burials, heaven (or not), why people die, when people die, how people die, who dies ect, ect, ect. This is a lot of information for a three- year old to digest before breakfast. The hardest part, though, wasn't the explaining but the explainations. Where do people go when they die? How do we explain to K something we aren't sure about ourselves and make it sound convincing? We told her that Saba Zvi's body was very old and tired; his body had had enough. His soul was now free to be with God. "Is withgod far?" K asked. Now, I had to explain to her what God is. What is God? I couldn't tackle that question. I mumbled something about heaven, where you are before you are born ... Nothing very sophisticated or rational or convincing. It would have to do until I cleared up this issue with myself.
We arrived at the cemetary. K and R were the only children there. They were the youngest by about 20 years. Is death only for adults, like pornography and alcohol consumption? Why do we hide death from our young? It isn't contagious. It is final, sad and uncomprehendable but with us all the time. People say that only when you fully comprehend your own mortality and that of the ones you love, can you truly apreciate life. I don't want my children to fear death. I want them to accept death as part of life and to treasure the life they have knowing death is there, waiting for us. And there death was waiting for us at the entrance to the cemetary in the form of a plain pine coffin covered in a black cloth. We saw the coffin and I got cold feet. Maybe this isn't the place for a skipping, laughing, happy little girl. We told her Saba Zvi's body was in the box. She looked at the box and then at an old man shuffling with a cane who was entering the cemetary. "There's Saba Zvi," K happily said. Implying that her parents were teasing her again - why would Saba Zvi be in a box, silly parents? "No, K," her father answered. "That isn't Saba Zvi. Saba Zvi is dead and you won't see him anymore." K looked at him increduously and then skipped away to collect stones and look for ants.
We filed our way toward the grave. There was the hole. The spades. The ropes for lowering the coffin. O with some other family members carried the coffin to the grave site. They lowered the coffin into the earth. The men picked up shovels and started to fill in the hole. The sound of the dirt hitting the coffin sent shivers down my spine. K started yelling for her dad. She was frightened. She ran to O. I was afraid she would trip and fall into the hole. K reached O and held onto his leg. It didn't take long for the men to finish, to say some kind words about Saba Zvi and Kaddish. Then it was over.
Since then K has talked a lot about death. She has a list of people she knows who are dead. She buries her stuffed animals. "Is Saba Zvi dead all day?" she asked me. "Why was Saba Zvi old?" K wanted to know. "When will he be young?" she inquired. We have so much more to learn about death, this really was only the beginning.