Every time I go into a Chinese Seafood Restaurant, I'd see these parents showing the kids the seafood, pointing at the fish, discussing them, and I always wonder if they ever tell the kids the truth. You know, that we kill the fish, gut them, slice them, dice them, cook and eat them.
Another story. A little boy (okok, a distant relative) goes to visit the graves of his ancestors on Ching Ming Festival. Pointing at the picture (of his great-great-grandfather, or the father's father's father) on the grave, he asks inquisitively, "who is this?", "what does great-great-grandfather mean?". And I couldn't wait to hear him ask "Where did they go?" so I could hear the euphemisms and stories people tell to avoid telling the truth.
Then I remembered when I, personally, realized people die. It was a funeral, and I saw oh so many grieving relatives and the open-casket viewing. I felt a deep fear for a long time afterwards. I would look up at the stars, and, knowing what a light year was, I realized I would never get to one of those stars alive (something I had assumed humans could do).
Looking back, I wish adults would be shining beacons of honesty. It would be so much easier for children growing up. If anything, sweet lies are dangerous because they are sweet and addictive. Once one is on it, it's tough to ween off, and there may always be a need for a fantasy, non-reality. And this makes one weaker.
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