Grief; learning from my daughter...again!

When Kali's bunny was declining I not only felt my own feelings of sadness, but I was heartbroken to think of Kali losing another loved one. Despite her mixed feelings at times about "Hiddley chores" she clearly loved her bunny. And I've learned in the past day just how much she loved certain things about having him - the feel of his fur when she petted him and his spots! So yesterday when I carried her to the front room and cuddled her as she woke up and then was given the sad news, I had no idea how the day would unfold. She doesn't often talk about her emotions, and I often struggle to know how to support her and be there for her when she is resistant to talking about things that are sad or emotional.

Sunday morning my Mom (once again) gave me a brilliant idea of writing a letter to Kali about Curious Hiddley since Kali is such a reader and it might be less daunting to read words than have words spoken she has to listen to. So I tried it and it seemed to be one of the things that opened up the ability for us to communicate and journey through this together. I am so grateful for that. Sunday we had two long stints with Hiddley - petting him and taking all sorts of pictures that Kali wanted to have. At the end of the evening we said our tearful goodbyes, as both Jason and I thought it unlikely he would make it through the night (and he didn't).

I feel like the words that kept coming to my mind last evening as we followed Kali through her own rituals of grieving and her last hours with Hiddley's body were, "A child will lead them." I was so glad we left much of the process to her to guide, as it was the most authentically sweet, silly, sad, and special funeral.

Here are a few of my memories:

Kali has none of the inhibitions that many of us adults may feel around death and dead bodies. She was very sad about getting to the moment where she could not be with him anymore. As we broached the subject of burying him last night, she expressed not wanting to bury him. When we talked with her about what would happen to his body over time, she then decided she wanted to retain a piece of his fur so she could always pet it. We processed this for a good long while with her and were willing to consider doing this, even when she explained that she didn't mean pulling out some fur but skin with the fur attached so it could be a part with his spots. In the end other factors and plans for how to proceed took precedence and Jason didn't have to do a minor surgery on Hiddley before burying him.

Kali's intense desire to learn and understand the world around her did not depart from her even at this time. She wanted to understand what was going on. She wanted to hold and "play" with Hiddley. She wanted to look inside his ears, check out his skin color underneath his fur, talk about why he felt heavier than he ever did when she held him before, hold him right side up and upside down and comment on the position his feet were in and why they were stiff but his head was floppy, etc...

Tears came and went freely, as did some smiles and humor. As we were waiting for Jason to bring the shovels from the shed, we were on the porch. Kali put Hiddley up on the slanted concrete slab and of course his body slid down the slope. Well, this turned out to be very entertaining for Kali (as I bit my tongue and watched). All of a sudden she piped up, "he's sort of like a penguin." Then, within minutes, she was carrying him tenderly to the drain field where she wanted one of her final pictures holding him and then asked with tears in her eyes and a tremor in her voice that we harvest orchard grass to line his little box from "the spot where [she] most often got it for him."

We made our way to the garden and Kali helped to dig a hole in her old garden bed from which the fingerling potatoes recently were harvested. She took a break to walk around the garden with Hiddley (after getting him out of the corn and squash patch where she had chosen to lay him while digging). She looked at him, then tried to balance him on a garden trellis, then immersed herself in further exploration and questioning about his body.

When it came time to tuck him in the box, Jason found a large plantain leaf to give him and Kali wanted it tucked just so in the box after laying it on his back for another photo. It seemed that by this point most of the tears had come for her and she solemnly placed him in the box and then in the hole and proceeded to put most of the soil back in the hole. When it was done, without a word, she walked towards the gate, turned around and gestured for us to follow her, and then walked slowly back to the house. The ceremony was over and she curled up with a Calvin and Hobbes book.

From all outward appearances she was "over it" but clearly her mind was still processing all that had transpired. When we got into bed and were playing a card game at about 11pm, she piped up that we really won't ever know for sure what day he died as we don't know if he died before midnight or after. So she wanted me to write his death date on my calendar right between the two. I can do that!

It seems so odd to me that in some ways (though I know Kali was a good bit younger than she is now) I felt that I had to guide her through or figure out how to help her grieve when Nora died. In so many ways it seems that she is naturally more comfortable with the idea of death or at least accepting of it than I am, as much as she clearly doesn't like it and clearly will miss her pet bunny. And I was even more in awe of the way she fully engaged the process and was not scared of it.

No doubt this week has brought back many memories. It is as if our bodies house the physical sensations of grief and when we experience those sensations, floods of memories from other times we felt similarly come back.

One of the biggest things I noticed last evening after our little funeral was how I was wandering around the house, not able to focus on much of anything (even though I had plenty on my list to do before bed). I had a hard time concentrating. I wasn't even consumed with thoughts about Hiddley, I just couldn't really think clearly about anything. And with it came a sense of disbelief that he was actually gone, when I did start thinking about him. I have almost expected to see him in his pen when I go outside, or hear the bell jingle as he hops out for whatever treat we are bringing to him. And I have almost stooped to pick plantain on several occasions for him.

Life continues, though, in good and meaningful ways. And Alida helps all of us smile and laugh! She didn't exactly get the "serious and solemn occasion" announcement about the funeral and added some shrieks throughout the process. She is so intent on figuring out her world right now and she is getting more vocal about the process of discovery. Very cute!!! And she has no doubt helped all of through this sad time, without even knowing it.