When Storytime Turns Serious: Navigating the Hard Questions

Avyaan’s bedtime routine is a cherished ritual, where we read together from the book that rests on our bedside table. However, tonight’s story took an unexpected and serious turn. The narrative included a couple of characters meeting their end, not in a gory or frightening way, but enough to bring up one of the most challenging conversations a parent can have with their child: the topic of death.

Usually, after the story ends, Avyaan snuggles up beside us and drifts off to sleep. Tonight, though, I noticed a pondering look in his eyes. Then came the question that every parent dreads: “Will you and Mom die too?”

I wasn’t prepared for this question. I don’t think anyone is. Yet, from the moment I became a parent, I committed to being honest with my child, even about life’s harsh realities. Taking a deep breath, I answered truthfully: yes, everyone dies eventually, including us. My answer made him visibly uncomfortable, and he anxiously followed up with another question.

He said, “But I don’t want you to die. I will have no parents. Who will take care of me?” I reassured him as best I could, telling him that, hopefully, this wouldn’t happen for a long time and that by then he would be grown up and able to take care of himself. Although he didn’t seem fully convinced, he finally relaxed and fell asleep. Now, I am the one left awake, reflecting on the conversation.

I find myself questioning how to balance honesty with comfort. How do we create a sense of security while helping our child process difficult truths and develop resilience? Did I handle the situation the right way? For now, Avyaan is sleeping peacefully, and I’ll consider that a success.

His questions linger in my mind. They have made me confront my own mortality, something we all know is inevitable but often avoid thinking about. I offered comfort in the moment, but now I wonder how we should prepare for the future, understanding that we will not always be here for him. Love for our children is not just found in bedtime reassurances; it is also reflected in the practical steps we take to ensure their safety and security, no matter what happens. This means it is time to begin the difficult conversations about guardianship and to make legal, financial, and emotional arrangements now, so that Avyaan will always feel loved and protected, even if the unimaginable occurs.

In a sense, his question was a gift. It prompted me to think not just about soothing his fears, but also about facing my own and taking steps to ensure his future well-being.

Why are you still sitting here?

3 years have gone by since my last post here. 3 years is a long time, and countless fleeting moments, core memories, firsts that were missed from being recorded on a blog that was meant to record them for posterity. However, I opened this up today to record something profound that happened today.

Relaxed family time is a rarity, and today evening was one such time when the stars aligned and there was no cooking to be done, no remaining work to catch up on, no temper tantrums to address. So the three of us sat together at the dining table, eating guacamole on toast, which qualifies as dinner at our home.

I eat fast, so I was done soon and was just sitting at the table while Prajakta and Avyaan worked on their portions. That's when this conversation happened between Avyaan (A) and me (M):

A: Why are you not eating?

M: Because I am done eating.

A: Then why are you still sitting here?

M: Because I like being with you. You are my family.

A: But you could be doing something else.

M: Like what?

A: Like work.

And... my heart broke a little. The poor kid doesn't recall a time when we were just chilling with each other. While we do spend time with him, a lot of it is individually with one parent, while the other deals with whatever life has thrown our way during that time. Most of it is trivial stuff, some corner to be cleaned, some email or message to respond to, meals to be prepped, clothes to be folded, dishes to be cleaned, and so on, but it all adds up. And when we do spend time together as a unit, it is still undertaking some activity - walking around the park, going to the grocery store, Costco runs, and the sort.

I tried explaining that things are the other way around. While work is important, it exists so that we don't have to worry about existential things and can spend time with each other. Although, in retrospect, I'm not sure if I was trying to provide a life lesson to him, or reminding myself of what's important.

This whole parenting thing is not easy, but moments like these that make you ponder over what your values are, what example you are setting for the little impressionable human who looks up to you, and in the process help make you a better person, make it all worthwhile.

I end this note with the hope that unrushed family time becomes so frequent that next time it happens, he doesn't treat it as an exception.