We’ve been there. Your 430-Month-Old is hitting her terrible mid-30s and is starting to ask questions about death. Maybe it was the tough summer with Sinéad O’Connor and Paul Reubens, or seeing teenagers dress the way she dressed in high school, or the oncoming whispers of seasonal depression, but questions of mortality will inevitably come up. Here’s how to handle it before her Big Feelings put her in fetal position on her office floor as she fills her online shopping cart with “chunky” heels that do her no favors.
Be Clear:
Explain that due to taking a chewable “hair, skin, and nails” vitamin every day, she will be beautiful forever and never die.
Explain:
“That person in the news died, but you are not in the news, so you will never die.”
Ensure Safety:
“Death is something that happens to other people. But the reality is, it will not happen to you or anyone you love. Ever! Until ‘it’s time.’ Ha - no, absolutely not. It will never be time, and will never happen.”
Invite Feelings:
Just kidding! Type “garlic confit recipes” into TikTok and hand her the phone. She’ll love it!
Uh oh. Didn’t work?
Fine. Have your 430-month-old her call her living grandmother and let her talk about how she was so beautiful in her youth that when she and your grandfather were stationed on an Army base in North Carolina during the Korean War, a naval officer flirted with her and so your grandfather and his army buddies challenged him and his Navy friends to a football game, and the Army/Navy game was born out of fighting for her honor, like Helen of Troy. Even though the story is apocryphal at best, delusional at worst, your 430-month-old will tear up when her grandma gets to the part about all the men chanting her name as she blushed in the stands. Then, despite having two small children who do not do great on long car trips, she’ll agree to go to New Jersey this weekend for the High Holidays. When her husband asks her why, she’ll say, “the lukewarm shrimp cocktail,” and they’ll both laugh. But the reason is death. She understands the fast-approaching, devastating reality of death. Then she’ll make some garlic toast.