In October, we took Lexi to the ocean for the first time. We found shells and even little crabs. Somehow, in the sweet bliss of vacation, we told her that when we got home she could get a hermit crab pet as a reminder of our trip.
Of course, she forgets nothing. So we got a crab. And then we read they are social. So we got another one.
The did great for a little while. And then one day the newest crab was not doing so great.
By this time, the novelty of the crabs had worn off and Lexi only showed interest on occasion. And the little hermit left his shell before he moved on to a better place, so his absence in the tank wasn’t particularly noticeable.
I guess I should also take this opportunity to mention that up until about a month ago, my sweet little big-hearted girl still cried herself to sleep on a semi-regular basis over her dad’s dog that died OVER A YEAR AGO.
Now, I can still tear up over the death of my first dog. I’m not trying to comment on a grief timeline by any means. But I’m also aware of the memory and attention length of a four year old. She has big feelings and big questions and a big awareness of the complexities of life but she doesn’t yet have the capacity or skills to cope with those feelings and questions.
So telling her a pet has died is never simple, no matter how deep the attachment was or wasn’t.
A day went by. Then another. And the more time went by, the harder it seemed to broach the topic.
And then the other crab died.
How do you teach a young child how to grieve a loss? How do you teach them how to keep moving through the grief rather than get stuck in it? How do you teach them to let go? How do we teach them to deal with any kind of emotional pain or loss or trauma or uncertainty? All these big “things” that we know they will have to encounter throughout their life…how do we as parents prepare them for it all?
I’m sure there are a lot of different ways. I know there are probably some thoughtful and inspired things I could write here. But I think that might be missing the point. Because the truth is, in order to teach her how to let go, I have to let go first.
I have to let go of the need to shelter her from it all. I have to let go of the belief that she is better off to never have to feel pain. I have to let go of the assumption that it will be bad for her to be upset or confused or sad. I have to let go of trying to hide the hard parts of life from her. I have to let go of the belief that it’s my job to protect her from her own feelings.
I have to let go.
Sometimes the hardest part of parenting is the stuff you don’t do.