Explaining Death to an Almost-Four-Year-Old

"Charlotte, c'mere baby. Momma has to talk to you," I say to her as she walks down the stairs, gripping the railing, still groggy from the first nap she's taken in months.

"Okay, Momma."

I pull her up on my lap an cradle her just like a baby. She lets me, likely because she's confused by my tears and still waking up from her sleep.

"Your Nanny is no longer here. She's gone."

"She's gone? Where did she go?"

"I'm not sure baby. She died. She was very sick and her body just stopped working. Aunt Cass thinks she's in Heaven with my Poppy."

"Heaven?"

"Yes. It's up high in the sky. And it's where some people think they go when they die. There are rainbows and cookies."

"Nanny's gone? We can't go see her?"

"Yes baby, she's gone. She died. She was very sick."

"Wow, Momma, you sure have REALLY big tears. They're all the way down to your chin!"

"Yes. Momma's sad." I wipe my eyes with my shirt.

"Your makeup is a HOT MESS!"

I smile. "I know baby. I'll fix it."

"I'm sorry you're sad Momma and have really big tears."

"It's okay. I know Momma doesn't cry much but it's okay to cry when you're really sad." I kiss her forehead.

"So, Nanny is with the rainbows?"

"Yes. And with my grandfather I'd like to think. Somewhere."

"She's far away. She's in the sky. She's with the rainbows."

"Yes, she's with the rainbows."

"Okay. Can I go ride my bike now?"

Moving on

As we ready to enter a new chapter of our lives, we are faced with a different kind of moving on.

My grandmother - my Nanny - passed away early this morning. She had enough pain and moved on to a place full of flowers, Wheel of Fortune, terrible news shows, and my Pop.

I'll miss you Nanny. So much. Give Pop a hug for me.

Hearts

Before we resigned ourselves to walking away from this house as the worst possible outcome, we spent the last few weeks trying to ready it for sale. You know, back when we were delusional enough to think our finished basement wouldn't flood or the sale price would be within TENS OF THOUSANDS of dollars of our mortgage.

My father and Mike painted Charlotte's room while she was still snug in my belly. I picked out a gender neutral border I fell in love with and then we picked opposing wall colors form that. It was bright and cheery. But not something you'd leave on your wall when you're trying to sell your house.

So a few weekends ago, some awesome family came over to help us score the border and repaint the room. I picked a color called White Linen and took Charlotte with me to Home Depot. I let her choose some of those wall stickers that could be peeled off to make her feel better about her room changing. She picked a set of purple and pink hearts.

Not the Disney Princesses. Not Tinkerbell. Not Nemo. Not Hello Kittie. She went right to the hearts and chose those immediately. It was like she was making a very educated grown-up decision.

She chose where to put the wall stickers on and every time someone comes over, she wants to show them her hearts. She's very proud of them.

We decided that when we get ready to head out to Iowa, Mike and our friend Brian (who was rad enough to offer to help us on the drive) will head out with the animals ahead of me, my mom, and the kids. They'll get there for the moving trucks and help get Charlotte's room ready first.

So when she gets there, her hearts will be on her wall.

It may not be enough to help her transition to her new life, but after reading all of your very helpful comments, I hope it will be a start. I've been showing her pictures of the new house (they have a website) and keep playing up the pool and the dog park where Phoebe will run and play with other dogs.

We've kept her informed the whole time and she seems to understand. I keep telling her that her room will be bigger and she has a walk-in closet where she can play hide-n-seek, and we'll have a patio and though we won't have our backyard, we'll go on lots of hikes and walks and go see the river.

She seems to be doing better, but I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that despite it not being the best outcome, realizing that we have no choice but to short sale or walk away from this house has alleviated a lot of stress for Mike and I. We don't have to worry about strangers in and out of our house or keeping it show-ready. The flooded basement really isn't our problem anymore.

When our shoulders lightened, so did her mood. It's amazing how much they feed off of our energy, despite us trying our best to be calm around them.

Seven weeks from today.

Her hearts will be on that wall.

A Belly Round With Hope

I remember the day we saw the house. Rather, didn't see this house. What we saw was a huge backyard where our kids would play. We saw space to build up and into the garage, expanding the second floor. We saw our future with our family. We didn't see the old cabinets that needed to be redone or the linoleum floor that needed replacing. We didn't see the market crashing mere weeks after we bought at the peak.

I stood in the basement on the concrete slab floor, and saw a place where we'd have a family room, an office, a place for guests to stay. I stood there rubbing my swollen belly, and told the woman we wanted to finish the basement since the only thing finished down there was the bathroom.

"We're gonna put the big TV here and get a new couch for upstairs. So, this basement has never had any water?"

"Nope. Actually my grown son and his girlfriend are staying down here in this room," and she pointed to the room I wanted to make my office which had a small bed in it.

She lied.

To a pregnant woman's hopeful face.

And we bought this house with the promise of so many things. Flooding was not one of them. The finished basement has flooded twice - once because the gutters were broken and the water was just overflowing into the foundation. So we replaced the gutters with the hooded ones for 5K. And when it didn't flood for two years, we thought we fixed the problem.

There's a half an inch of water in my basement as I type this.

She lied.

We're moving in seven weeks. We can't put a house on the market with water in the basement. Buyers will laugh in our face. But we don't have any more money to put into this house - a house we're leaving. A house that has gone from our dream to our nightmare.

We owe a lot more on this house than it's worth and are going through the process to start a short sale, assuming it even sells before we have to foreclose. That last word gets caught in my throat and I choke on it, along with the 40K of improvements we put on this house.

A house that is now worth A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS less than we paid for it. Which means, we're taking 140K loss.

I'll let you recover from your gagging episode.

Ok, better?

I know a new life is waiting for us, and even if we have to rent for a few years for our credit to rebuild after I know what this is going to do it, that's what we'll do. I won't let this break us. We are too strong.

After all, it's just a house.

Home is wherever we are.