I was deep in thought at my office preparing a lecture to be given that evening at a college across town, when the phone rang. A woman I had never met introduced herself and said that she was the mother of a seven-year-old and that she was dying. She said that her therapist1 had advised her that discussing her pending2 death with her little boy would be too traumatic3 for him, but somehow that didn't feel right to her.
Knowing that I worked with grieving4 children, she asked for my advice. I told her that our heart is often smarter than our brain and that I thought she knew what would be best for her son. I also invited her to attend the lecture that night since I was speaking about how children cope5 with death. She said she would be there.
I wondered later if I would recognize her at the lecture, but my question was answered when I saw a frail6 woman being half-carried into the room by two adults. I talked about the fact that children usually sense the truth long before they are told and that they often wait until they feel adults are ready to talk about it before sharing their concerns and questions. I said that children usually can deal with truth better than denial7, even though the denial is intended to protect them from pain. I said that respecting children meant including them in the family sadness, not shutting them out.
At the break, she hobbled8 to me and through her tears she said, “I knew it in my heart. I just knew I should tell him.” She said that she would that night.
The next morning I received another phone call from her. I managed to hear the story through her choked9 voice. She awakened him when they got home the night before and quietly said, “Derek, I have something to tell you.”
He quickly interrupted her saying, “Oh, Mommy, is it now that you are going to tell me that you are dying?”
She held him close and they both sobbed10 while she said, “Yes.”
After a few minutes the little boy wanted down. He said that he had something for her that he had been saving. In the back of one of his drawers was a dirty pencil box. Inside the box was a letter written in simple scrawl11. It said, “Good-bye, Mom. I will always love you.”
How long he had been waiting to hear the truth, I don't know. I do know that two days later Mom died. In her casket12 was placed a dirty pencil box and a letter.
当我在办公室里正忙着为当天晚上在城市另一端的一所大学的讲座作准备时，电话铃响了。一位从未谋面的女士自我介绍说她是位七岁孩子的母亲，快要离开人世。她说医生建议如果她对孩子谈论她即将辞世，这对于一个小男孩来说太让人伤心了。但这样做的话，她觉得有些不妥。
听说我曾从事过少儿的安抚工作，她向我咨询。我告诉她我们的直觉比思维更为准确，我认为她知道对她儿子来讲什么是最好的。我还邀请她参加当天晚上的讲座，因为我要谈到孩子如何去面对死亡。她说她会去听的。
后来我怀疑自己能否在讲座中认出她，但当我看见一位虚弱的女士被两位成年人搀扶着走进房间时，我的疑问不复存在了。我谈到了这样的事实：孩子们经常在被告之真相之前很久就会察觉到真相，而且他们通常会等待，直到他们觉得大人们已做好了谈论真相的准备，才袒露出他们关怀和困惑的心声。我说到孩子们通常更善于面对事实，而不是被挡在真相的大门之外，即使这样做是出于保护他们不受伤害。我也说到了尊重孩子就意味着让他们与家人同甘苦，而不是将他们拒之门外。
中途休息的时候，她跌跌撞撞地走到我跟前流着眼泪对我说：“我已经知道该怎么做了——我应当告诉他。”她说当晚她就告诉儿子。
第二天早上，我又接到她的电话。我耐心地从她的哭诉声中听完了整个故事：昨天晚上一回到家，她就叫醒孩子，平静地说，“德瑞克，我有事要告诉你。”
他立即打断她的话，说道：“哦，妈妈，现在你要告诉我你要死的事吗？”
她紧紧地抱着他，两个人都抽泣了，她说：“是的。”
几分钟后，小男孩要从母亲怀里下来。他说他有个保存了很久的东西给她。在他的抽屉里头，有一个有点脏的文具盒，盒子里有一封信，信写得潦草而简单，“再见了，妈妈，我永远爱你！”
我不知道他为了亲耳听到这个真相而等了多长时间，但我确实知道两天以后他的母亲就去世了。在她的棺材里放着那个有点脏的文具盒和那封信。
1. therapist n． 治疗专家
2． pending adj． 眼前的，来临的
3． traumatic adj． 伤害的，受伤的
4． grieve v． 悲痛
5． cope v． 对付，应付
6． frail [freil] adj． 虚弱的，衰弱的；（意志）脆弱的
7． denial n． 拒绝相信
8． hobble v． 跛行
9． choke v． 哽噎
10． sob v． 啜泣
11． scrawl n． 潦草地写
12． casket n． 小箱，棺材