I had to deal with with when my mum died and ds was only two, it was tricky.
We explained factually that granny was very very old and her body had stopped working, and the hospital couldn’t fix her. We explained when someone dies, that means they don’t think or move any more and so they don’t need their body any more. We explained that the most important thing is remembering granny and all the love we have for her and all the fun we had together.
We had to explain this over and over until he was three and understood she wasn’t coming back.
Be prepared for some logical comebacks. When will grandad die?
will I die?
How old will I be when I die? How many years will I still be alive for?
How do you know how old I’ll be when I die?
If a car hits me, will I die?
Will I wake up when I fall asleep tonight…what if I don’t?
Why can the doctors fix you sometimes but not other times?
Do you always die when you go to hospital?
If your heart stops working why can’t you get another heart?
When he turned 4 we had to explain all these again, and more. I have talked more about death with my small son than any other person.
And he wanted to know why Father Christmas has been “alive” for hundreds of years. It upset him deeply, this failure in the logic of nature. The unfairness of it.
So age 4 I basically bust the Santa myth, mumbled about “how we like to think it’s magic, because thats fun, but we don’t really have to believe in magic and we don’t have to take the Santa stories too seriously, we can just enjoy the idea like it’s a game.”
He still writes to Santa but he is not a true believer.