Hier les filles ont trouvé un bébé oiseau sur le balcon. Il était tout nu, et ne trouvant pas le nid, avec Mamma elles ont voulu s'en occuper.Personnellement, je prévoyais le pire. Même sans être expert, il me semblait que s'occuper d'un oiseau tout frais comme ça doit pas être à la portée de tout le monde.
Il n'a pas survécu, et ce matin, Kalia a dû se rendre à l'évidence que c'était fini. C'est un drame pour elle, et par extension pour nous... Surtout qu'elle avait "prié Jésus pour qu'il guérisse".
J'ai fabriqué un petit cercueil avec une boîte d'allumettes, elle ne pouvait pas envisager de l'enterrer parce que "il sera triste", alors on a visité la cimetière pour la convaincre que même les gens sont enterrés, le soir on l'a enterré dans le jardin - elle n'a pas pu regarder - elle beaucoup beaucoup pleuré.
Un jour d'apprentissage - de la vie, de la mort, des aléas de la prière, des limites de l'anthropomorphisme.
Super sensible, notre grande: "Mais Daddy, qu'est-ce que je vais faire de Jésus? Je ne le vois pas, et il ne dit rien."
Yesterday, while I was out the girls found a nestling on the balcony. Very young - completely featherless. Mamma couldn't find the nest so they decided to 'look after' it.When I got back I was admittedly a bit skeptical about the chances of it surviving. I'm not ornithologist, but it seemed to me that keeping a tiny thing like that alive was probably not as simple as it seems.
And he didn't make it. This morning Kalia had to come to terms with the fact that it was over. It was a "very big thing" for her - and thus for us too. Especially as she "prayed to Jesus that he'd get better".
I made a little coffin out of a matchbox, but she couldn't cope with the idea of burying it because "he'll be sad", so we went for a walk to the cemetery, to convince her that even people get buried. Then we came home, and buried it in the garden (though she couldn't bear to watch). I read her the passage about sparrows and hairs on your head.
That's a lot of stuff to handle in one day. Life, death, burial, birds not being quite like humans. And prayer. She's a very sensitive girl our Kalia: "But Daddy, what am I going to do about Jesus? I can't see him, he doesn't talk..."
It made me think a bit about how many prayers we don't even bother praying because we "know" they won't work...
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We're just reading a book about death and dying. Maybe it needs a children's version. Or maybe life is its own instruction manual. Crying seems a very appropriate response; it's be more worrying if she didn't feel anything at this 'first death'.
I seem to remember being singularly unphased by Pop's death, I think I was about the same age. Weird...
A bit older I think. But maybe there is something about animals dying that gets to us. And small helpless ones rather than old men...........I was devastated when my cat died, and I was twelve.
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