We shuffled bare foot in the snow toward the shadowy box that peaked above the wooden floor of my parents’ backyard deck. Light flurries dusted a thin layer of ice that coated the stiff and creaky aged planks.

Holding Cash’s hand I lifted the grey lid off of the hot tub. Pushing it against the wall of the house I struggled to keep my footing as melting snow turned to ice under the warmth of my feet.

I lifted Cash through the plume of steam and into the calm water. Stepping in after him, the abrupt temperature change gave the sensation of pinpricks on my skin. My son didn’t seem to mind. He enjoys the heat.

It was a cold December night in Northern Ontario and we couldn’t submerge ourselves quick enough. Christmas had just passed and the days were still short. Dinner was an hour away and the sky was midnight black. The stars were out and Cash and I debated which lights in the sky were spaceships.

Spending time in the hot tub with my son is an activity I look forward to. It’s a place where we can sit together quietly, jets off, and decompress. It is also a place where we have meaningful conversations – no television, toys or places to be.

We often talked about school, racing cars, plans we had for the following day. But on this particular snowy night the conversation between Cash and I took me off guard.

He wanted to talk about death – more specifically, the death of our dog, Chipper.

We often think of the curiosity of toddlers as ending in a humorous “you won’t believe what he said”. Their innocent understanding of the world guiding them to a line from Kids Say The Darndest Things.

But we are never truly prepared for the tough questions. The unfiltered impulsiveness of children to ask about the unknown is one of the most beautiful characteristics of a developing mind.

It also creates one of the most difficult parts of parenting.

That night Cash asked, “Daddy, will Chipper die?”

“Yes. He will”, I paused momentarily and answered.

“Why? I don’t want him to die”, he said as he stared squarely into my eyes looking for the answer.

I could tell that the topic of death had been weighing on him. I had never seen him look so intently at me before. He was anticipating my answer. An answer I hadn’t expected to give this early into parenthood.

Cash had experienced death in our family in the year leading up to his fourth birthday.

But he had not asked about it.

My wife and I had taken the time to explain that he would no longer be able to see the family member who passed and why we were sad. These conversations were brief and we did not skirt the circumstances. He had no questions.

That is, until he had my undivided attention where he felt comfortable to talk.

It took me a moment to decide how I would approach his question. I thought about death and my own beliefs. I am not a religious person and often think about mortality myself. I have moments of spirituality but am unclear about what waits for us on the other side.

Sometimes I envy those who place faith in a higher power to accept them in death.

As muddled as my thoughts were about death, Cash needed my answer.

That night I looked into my son’s eyes and decided not to talk to him about death, but to tell him about life instead.

I told him death is a certainty in life and that this inevitable truth should not sadden you. Seize the moments you have in life with Chipper and the ones you love and enjoy them.

Tell him that you love him.

Show him that you love him.

Treat him well while he is with us.

Make the best of your time with Chipper and create vivid memories that will survive his time on earth.

Do not let the presence of death in life taint your experiences with those you love.

There will be a day when Chipper is not with us. I don’t know when that day will be. Let’s make the most of his life.

When I finished Cash just stared at me and said, “okay, daddy”. I thought that maybe my words didn’t satisfy him and he still carried around questions unanswered.

However, it was his actions in the following days that spoke beyond his brief response.

Our conversation must have resonated with him. Since that December day in the hot tub Cash has not missed a moment to tell Chipper, my wife or myself that he enjoys the time we spend together and that he loves us.

And I’ve not missed a moment to show him that love back.

Death is a difficult topic to discuss with our children. Our answers are lasting and impactful on not only how they view mortality, but also life. I hope that my son carries with him my lessons and continues to talk to me about whatever is weighing on his mind (whether it’s in or out of the hot tub).