The Sleep Theory

sleep: verb -to take the rest afforded by a suspension of voluntary bodily functions
sleep: noun-the repose of death

Death is something that I have a hard time explaining to myself so how am I supposed to explain it to my three year old. I am at a loss of what to say. My lips quiver. My eyes begin to well up with tears. I pause. I think this is the point where most parents develop their own version of the sleep theory, and for me this is where I found myself at 0630 this morning on the drive to daycare. I took a deep breath and began.

“Porter” I say. “What” is the reply from the back seat. My mind is racing for the right words, the careful simplicity I must provide for the complexity of what I’m about to say. I sigh. “Aden timeout?” he asks inquisitively. “Yes, Aden is in timeout.” “Aden not nice?” he continues to quiz me for the answers he’s looking for. “No, Aden was not nice. Aden hurt Jess”.

At this point my pulse is racing and my sight is getting blurry. “Nanny, Jess?” and then I say it quickly because I don’t know what else to say. “Porter, Aden hurt Jess, and now Jess is asleep and gone to heaven and we won’t see him any more ok?” There is a quiet moment before he answers me. “Aden owie Jess?” I look back and see him wanting to understand so I try to use words I know he understands. “Aden was not soft with Jess. Jess big owie. Jess went to sleep, like the ants in the kitchen.” “Jess sleepin?” “Yes Jess is sleeping now in Heaven with Jesus.” “I go church see Nanny, Jess?” and that’s my breaking point. I don’t know what else to say. I am quiet and then he understands that something is different. “You otay mom?” “Yes Porter mommy is just sad”. “You sad Jess?”, “Yes.” And then much more quiet he asks “Jess sleepin?” “Yes my love. Jess is sleepin” and my tiny little three year old who has no idea what has happened simply tells me “its otay mommy” as he puts his little feet up on my middle console knocking his shoes back and forth. “you’re my mommy”.

There are not words to express the emotion I felt last night and feel today. I am still wrapping my mind around the circumstances that were Jess’ last moments and why they happened. I know he wasn’t a person, that he was a pet, but he was our pet and the absence I feel is deafening.

Sleep well Jess.