For Felix, John's passing was a completely different experience. Because Felix's relationship with John was with someone he saw only a few times a year, John's death was marked primarily in Felix's mind, by our absence, as Susan, and then both Susan and I, traveled to Lancaster PA to remember John, and support his wife Misty and Susan's parents during this tragic and unexpected crisis.
Felix handled our absence extremely well, considering that he is four, and change is not something four year olds excel at. But after we returned, and life got back to "normal" (which included a trip to Alabama for my sister's wedding, Felix getting sick for 10 days, and me going out of town for 3 days for work), things started to get a little dicey. Separation anxiety, something Felix had almost completely gotten over at daycare, returned with a vengeance, and spread to every aspect of his life. There were days when I wondered if I would ever make it to work, or would just have to turn myself in for inpatient therapy somewhere after seeing him cry that hard as I drove off. And in case you were thinking of it, don't even consider having your kid start circus class AND violin lessons the week after a family crisis occurs.
Thanks to the caring teachers at Felix's school who helped me understand what was going on and what I should do, Susan and I tried (and are still trying) to make things as normal and consistent as possible on the home front. Slowly but surely Felix is getting better, and hopefully soon will stop asking me if I am coming back whenever I leave the room, and at least for my back's sake will need to be carried around like a baby less often. All this to say that while we've talked about John's death with Felix, and he has seen our sadness and grief, he hasn't expressed many feelings about John per se, though I know that there is a lot there, and more will be revealed over time when he is feeling safe and secure again.
It was a little fortuitous that a holiday arrived, that was perfectly suited for Felix, and for us. Dia de Los Muertos is a Mexican holiday, where families and friends gather to remember and celebrate loved ones who have died. There is a tradition of making altars, which is something Susan and I love to do. So we went to a Dia de los Muertos event at the History Center, where one of the activities promoted was to make a shadow box of a loved one. We told Felix about the event, and he expressed interest in making a shadowbox for Bone, our cat who died a year and a half ago.
We got there, and Felix spent over an hour (which in four-year-old time is a very long time) carefully picking out pictures and items that reminded him of Bone - feathers, flowers, a "bone", a heart, a spider, - and gluing them on the box, while Susan worked on one for John. It was amazing to watch Felix work. It was if he had been just waiting for an activity to channel his energy and emotions around grief and loss, in a way that was tangible and real for him.
When we got home, Susan decided to take her shadowbox of John, and include it in a ofrenda ("offering" or altar), with items that were meaningful to John. Felix immediately followed suit, and made his own ofrenda for Bone that included a can of catfood, water bowl, mint (for catnip), a cat toy, a plastic bag (because Bone loved to chew on plastic), and pumpkin seeds and a plum, because Bone might be hungry and want something sweet.
After the ofrendas were complete, Felix and Susan had a conversation about what they liked about each other's shrines, what made them sad, and how the ofrendas reminded them of John, and of Bone. It was clear that it was helpful for Felix to have his own experience honoring a being who was special to him, and helped him relate to Susan and her loss. I was touched by his sensitivity - at one point he said to Susan, "if you feel sad when you look at your ofrenda, look at mine, and it will make you happy". While clearly we do not want to shy away from sadness, it made me happy to see Felix involved in naming grief, remembering and celebrating loved ones, and coming together as a family to support each other. Even when our eyes are filled with tears, we will remember, with eyes wide open.
