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A Stone for Diesel

Benjamin and Nicholas have been talking about Diesel. And they have a lot of questions.

Last Tuesday, Pierre and I came home from the veterinarian and sat the boys on the couch to tell them that Diesel wasn’t coming home. We explained that Diesel was very, very old, and that his body was so broken it couldn’t be fixed. We said that Diesel was in Heaven now, that Heaven was a happy place and Diesel was happy too, that his legs could run again, and that he was watching over them both. 

At the time, neither said much. They needed time to absorb. Then the questions started:

“Is Diesel coming back?”

“Heaven is a happy place, but why am I sad?”

“How come Diesel couldn’t get fixed?”

“Why can’t we see Diesel if he can see us?”

“When can I see Diesel again?”

“How come Diesel didn’t bring his Kong (his favorite toy) to Heaven with him?” Incidentally, I can’t find the Kong anywhere right now…

I wasn’t prepared for the depth of the questions that Ben and Nicholas asked. And honestly, in my own grief last week, I don’t think that I was able to give them the answers that they needed. While I’d say that we are a spiritual family, we are not a religious family, and I definitely struggled to find a concrete way to explain such an abstract concept to my sons. The boys needed to see. How could I help them to see something like their beloved dog going to Heaven? I still don’t have the answers.

Instead, I did (I hope) the best that I could. We read the story Waterbugs and Dragonflies by Doris Stickney. It is one of my favorite stories for explaining death to children. A wonderful teacher that I once worked with gave me a copy when my grandfather passed away. The boys enjoyed the story, it helped them to ask even more questions, and I think explained a little about why Diesel wasn’t coming back.

And, Pierre and I told Benjamin and Nicholas about Rainbow Bridge. Several friends and family introduced us to Rainbow Bridge when I first posted about Diesel (Thank You!!), and our compassionate veterinarian sent us a copy too. Benjamin especially liked the idea that Diesel would someday be waiting for him. And now both boys are looking for rainbows.

I think the question that stumped me the most was when Benjamin asked where Diesel’s “Heaven-Stone” was. A “Heaven-Stone” is what the boys call a gravestone. I realized again how concrete young children are. And how much the boys needed a marker, a place to remember Diesel. So, we made one - a garden stone which we placed in the herb garden.

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Pierre mixes the concrete.

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Nicholas and Benjamin place the stones.

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Our finished stone.

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Finding Diesel a spot in the garden.

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Remembering our pal.

To say that I was unprepared for how it would feel it lose Diesel is a gross understatement. I was completely gutted. Did I do enough for the boys? I have no idea. It’s an ongoing process. Pierre and I have answered their questions the best that we knew how. And each day brings less questions and more memories, which hopefully means that they are accepting what happened, and feeling okay about it.

Before I sign-off, I want to say a huge thank you for the out-pouring that we received when I first posted about Diesel. Not once did anyone say, “He was just a dog”. Instead, you all shared your thoughts, and love, and stories of your own furry friends, and for that I thank you so, so much. You made a hard time easier, and I am grateful.

xo Naomi

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