It’s hard to wrap your mind around death when you are seven and Catholic. I was told my Dad was needed in Heaven and that it was his time. I didn’t know why God needed my Dad more than I did. I didn’t know why God would take someone so wonderful from people who needed him so badly, and yet leave people like the Green River Killer who were so bad and so unwanted.
I was told to pray.
I prayed hard, and every night, and still why? Why didn’t God help us? I wanted to know.
I didn’t get straight answers to my questions. I can only imagine how difficult it was to answer a seven year old’s questions about why her Dad died. How do you describe God’s will? How do you paint the bigger picture? How do you explain unanswered prayers? I wonder if any answer would have been good enough.
I started asking questions and doubting adults when I was seven and Catholic.
Ms. Winton was my second grade teacher. Every month (or was it every week?) we learned about and studied and prayed to (or for?) a new saint. One Monday morning I raised my hand:
Ms. W: This week we’re going to learn about the very special Saint Francis…
(raising hand)
Ms. W: Kathy do you have a question?
Me: Yeah…How does someone become a saint?
Ms. W: A Saint is someone who loves God very much and lives for and teaches His word.
Me: Could I be a Saint?
Ms. W.: (smiling like adults do in that patronizing manner I so despised) Not exactly, you have to die to become a saint, and live with God for eternity, and you have to do some really special things for God while you’re alive…
Me: My Dad was very special and did special things for God…when are we going to learn about him??
Poor Ms. Winton danced around the answer to this question by going into a long explanation about all other saints in an effort to distract me, and then quickly changed the subject. It didn’t work. I was listening intently for the answer to my question because I wanted to study my Dad. I wanted the class to learn about my Dad.
How was she to know that I would hold on to that interaction with her and that it would become the only reason I still remember her name.
The tedious process of finding faith began when I was seven and Catholic because my Dad could not be a Saint.
Embejo says
What a moving post deep in your archives. I also have a post about losing a parent. It’s also deeply buried in my archives because I originally published it as private, then a few weeks ago set it public but it’s hardly been seen, which is ok because I’m still not sure how I feel about it.
Anyway, since you of all people would understand…if you’re so inclined, it’s over here:http://embejoetc.wordpress.com/2009/01/02/getting-over-it/
(written on the anniversary of her death)
Nicole says
Religion is tricky. Answers to life’s toughest questions through religion can be even tougher. I was raised in a Lutheran church – similar to the Catholic church and I remember answers to questions like this. “God needed him there” or “It was just his time”. But to a young girl who needs their father, it definitely must have been a tough answer to make sense of. I lost a cousin who was only 21 at the time and it just made no sense to me at all why someone so wonderful didn’t belong in this world any longer. I think with kids sometimes it’s better to be honest in the sense that we just don’t know why we have loss like this. It’s horrible and just plain unfair. But it is an unfortunate reality and all we can do is hold on tight to our memories, honor them by living a good life and cherish those that we still have in our lives. I think that’s what I would tell my girls if I had to explain the death of a loved one….I think…..