We don’t really do a very good job of talking about death, either to our kids, or to each other.

At the first funeral I ever went to, when I was about 12, the grownups kept asking me if it didn’t look like Great-Uncle John was “sleeping.” Well, no, I thought. It looks like he’s dead. But I didn’t say so.

More recently, I’ve had to think about how to talk about death with my 8-year-old, and not because I wanted to.

Our precious dog died recently, late one night after Tomas had gone to sleep. The next morning, his dad and I told him, and waited to see what would happen. There were lots of tears and questions, but after a while, he tucked a favorite picture of C.B. into his pocket, and went off to school.

The next day he drew an elaborate cartoon of C.B. boarding an airplane taking off into the clouds, with the cheerful caption, “Have a good time in heaven!”  For Tomas, C.B. had been a good dog, and when she died, she went to heaven. It was that simple.

I wish it were that simple for me.

Click here to read the rest of my column from today’s Commercial Appeal, and be sure to share your thoughts on Easter, death and resurrection by leaving a comment below.