I have a faint memory of watching the Lion King when I was 5. We would watch it before bed while on holiday at my aunt’s in Israel. We don’t speak Hebrew, but the memory is still just a tear distorted screen; I cried every single time. My liberal bleeding heart origin story: I don’t understand what’s going on but it all makes me so sad. I’m not sure why my mom thought this was a good movie for us to watch before bed.
Zoe is allowed to watch TV. Sue me. I think gen Z have actually already invented suing their parents for malpractice, so let’s see how this little sanity trick works out for me in 20 years’ time. Zoe really likes lions. She also likes the Lion King, albeit superficially. She’s there for the rawrs and the awimbawes, not that whole childhood trauma and identity crisis stuff.
For now I’m trying to keep it this way, so she’s also not aware of what happens in the ravine. Simba is learning how to roar and then boom - Hakuna Matata! I tell her Simba goes to university and moves in with his friends. She knows about universities about as much as she knows about death, but she knows friends are a good thing.
I don’t know what the appropriate age is for the introduction of death. We were watching Moana the other day and she said: “Grandma sleeping!” I don’t know why on that particular day I thought she needed to know, but I looked at her and said: “No Zoe, grandma died.” And made a sad face. She looked back at me, no understanding in her eyes. “She died,” I repeated. “Sleeping!” Said Zoe. I said: “Kind of like a long sleep, but she will never wake up, my love.” What’s wrong with me?
I lied a little, in that I do have a reason, though I’m not committing fully to this path yet. More research needed &c. I’m sure there’s ample supply of childhood psychology literature on this topic; people love telling parents what to do. What I was thinking was that death shouldn’t be a surprise, but her first introduction to it also shouldn’t be “Dad? Dad?… Wake up dad!” It’s like video game boss levels. First level boss of death is quietly dying in your bed, no tubes, no ventilator, with your family by your side. Then there’s more levels all the way up to Final Destination, Saw, and all the rest of the more graphic ways to go.
Although wait, that’s wrong. The worst way to lose a loved one is knowing they were killed by someone else, out of malice. Although maybe that’s how I feel because I havent had any close family die out of natural causes yet, but my uncle was killed by someone else.
There’s also the sudden ones, like the way we lost our cat. Maybe the worst way is always the way it happens.
I wonder what it’s like, not *knowing* about death. There’s a whole “How X affected my brain chemistry” series of TikToks now, which I think is kind of a new way of looking at core memories, or at least not how I used to. Y’all know I hate to be seen agreeing with anything that goes on on TikTok, but I can’t help but enjoy this approach.
How would losing a loved one affect my brain chemistry? We lost Ini and I cried for months, I still do sometimes. What really shocked me was the finality of it. That one more time, 5 more minutes, it won’t happen, and I won’t get to choose what those lasts will be. It just feels so cruel, so unfair. I just want him to sleep with his head lying on my hand one more time. Can’t have it - not even a little. I didn’t agree to this! Who do I talk to? Is there a phone number I can call? “Have you experienced a life’s unfairness and it wasn’t your fault? Call 1-800-fix-this-shit and talk to a qualified advisor today!”
I still don’t think it’s the same with pets though. We love them, but it’s not the same. It’s like when people who don’t have kids say that they have a puppy and that’s basically the same thing. Or that getting kicked in the balls hurts more than having a baby. Okay, but also, no. Not at all. Why am I the person tasked with explaining death to new people? I don’t know what it is. I’m also still here for the rawrs and awimbawes.
It’s likely we’ll experience it at the same time, when one of my grandparents passes away. And just like I was with my granddad’s brother, maybe Zoe will be confused about why I’m so upset. Maybe as I learn to process my own loss I can at least do a good job of explaining how the same person can mean very different things to different people, and that it’s okay for her to feel her own way. “You can give me a hug about this in 20 years, if you like. Right before you sue me for letting you watch TV.” Maybe I’ll also feel confused. Like everything is in Hebrew and my tears are distorting the picture.
Thankfully while they’re still small my quandaries are small too, and nothing happened, so we’re good. So when do I tell her about Mufasa? Is there an age, or should I introduce her to other media deaths first? Moana’s grandmother being level one, who goes next? Maybe I’ll plant some seeds first, that not everything is as it seems - I’ll play her that Friends clip about the Old Yeller, where Phoebe talks about how her mother would turn the movie off before the bad parts happened. “Hey, you know how Phoebe’s knowledge of an entire media genre was a lie? Well…”
P. S. I know it’s fashionable to hate on Friends these days but the show was fine, don’t start with me.
Here, stop being cool and just enjoy this scene with me.
My son was three when our family dog died, and we had to put him in the freezer because it was the day before Thanksgiving. So that was an unexpected introduction to death! I wrote about it: https://jenzug.substack.com/p/dog-in-your-freezer