Waiting to die

Out of the blue last week, Mattie starting talking about not wanting to die. I'm not sure whether he heard something at school, or whether he's just at that age where time and space start to make more sense. Over the weekend, his comments became more frequent, and it became clear that he was more than just working something out, he was afraid. I realized that I had never stopped to talk about death with him. With older siblings in the house, sometimes I assume that Mattie has figured things out or picked them up by assimilation, until I'm suddenly reminded that I've neglected something important. So, I talked to him. I told him that when you die, your eyes close like you're sleeping, and your body stops moving. I told him that what's inside of you, your soul, goes to Heaven and keeps on living. I told him that Heaven was where God lived, and that once you live in Heaven, you never die again; you live forever. I told him that Heaven was beautiful, and that we will all be together in Heaven. These few simplified statements made him feel much better. I could tell at once that he was relieved and no longer afraid. I felt good too, knowing that we had gotten over this "big" question. I also felt thankful for the reminder that, as a Catholic parent, I wasn't doing my job to teach Mattie about the basics of our religion, but that in those few moments, I had taken an important step in that education. Then, this morning, Mattie jumped out of bed and announced, "I can't wait to die! Can't you not wait to die too, Mama?" and ran upstairs for breakfast. He told me the same thing four more times before I dropped him off at school. Now, I think I'm traumatized.