Obviously this is a solemn thread,( kinda hard to read) but this story really slapped me.
Understanding of complex concepts can come in stages. It’s possible she had an idea of “dead” but realised she needed more information so she asked about it.
This is from Patton Oswalt, after the death of his wife:
TRC4941, so sorry for the loss of your son. I’m glad you have the bright light of little ones to remember him by & with.
My nieces have been to an incredible number of funerals in their 8 and 6 years of life. Seven funerals that I can think of, maybe more. Plus the loss of 2 beloved family dogs. The latest of those funerals was for a child not much older than them. For a while they both sort of obsessed about death but not in a bad way (not scared), just in a “ok you talk too much about this, kid” way.
Both girls are being raised Catholic so the concept of death isn’t too scary for them, or hard to explain. At this stage death is just heaven and clouds and rainbows and stuff. I think they are particularly pleased that the dogs are there for the people.
Here’s how Mr Rogers explained death to children. We use this approach when we talk with kids in the Religious Education classes at church if it comes up.
We’re expecting to have to field some questions like this in a couple days, so the adults who work with kids pretty often are all getting a quick refresher course on it. It’s good stuff.
Enjoy,
Steven
I am not a parent, and my childhood memories of my own learning is, understandably, fuzzy.
However, I had this book as a kid, and I still have my copy. I find it to be a pretty honest and lovely metaphor/story, and it was quite accessible to me as a young person, and still is today.
Yes, Freddie is a good and poignant metaphor, for sure.
That’s so interesting, because I as an atheist also really like it. I hadn’t seen that before–thanks for sharing. I love Mr. Rogers in general, though, and often think of his advice to “look for the helpers” when we see awful acts of evil like the school shooting yesterday.
You did a good job of explaining death to your daughter.
I was four or so when my Dad would get us to bed early by promising to read Watership Down. Some of the rabbits die. But they go to rabbit heaven.
Thanks! I appreciate that.
You have to provide the child with a sense of a next phase of existence; they are young and need comfort and reassurance more than anything else. The Christian heaven is one option; physics is another. There are lots of ways.
There was a few year period when I was a child with several deaths in the extended families, including aunts & uncles I adored. I was young enough to accept death as a different and better existence, so funerals were a place to see distant cousins, and quite fun and joyous.
When my patents died within a year of each other when I was an adult, I shed a few tears and cleaned everything in sight for about a year. Reasonable response, really. Then an uncle with whom I hadn’t even been closed died. I wept horribly for several days. So, don’t beat yourself up, who knows how a person will respond.
Physics? 
Well, duh, yeah. Religion and physics are how people strive to understand the universe, by extrapolation from incomplete data.
Auntie will always be with you in your heart.
Every little thing one does effects everyone around, and what they do effects everyone around them, like ripples in water. One is felt forever throughout time and space.
My favorite? Time isn’t linear, sweetie; we always have been and we always will be.
I will refrain from using “duh” and point out that physics also implies the eventual heat death of the universe (or if not, a Big Crunch through which no information will pass). Not to mention our being on a muddy rock in a solar system that lies on one spiral arm of a galaxy with hundreds of billions of stars in it, in a larger universe with trillions of other galaxies (and that may be just one facet of an unimaginably larger multiverse).
Watching my offspring come to terms with the notion of death is one my most painful experiences.
I don’t have kids, and don’t remember learning about death, but apparently my brother’s response, age 2-3, to being told ‘Yes, everyone dies’ was ‘Well, how about Santa?’
My Mum reckoned it was the one thing she genuinely couldn’t work out how to respond to.
Little smartass 
Yeah, those are all mumbo-jumbo, not physics.
“Yes, your Auntie is gone, but the covalent bonds of her molecules remain, and the breaking of those bonds by metabolic pathways in microbes will contribute to the general increase in entropy, bringing us one step closer to the heat-death of the universe, when all tears will be forgotten.”
Thank you
Losing our son has been the hardest thing ever required of me and my husband. There are no words to describe it. We are so thankful that we have his children. They keep us laughing and smiling. We see our son in their faces and in their actions. They are such a blessing.
DesertWife died age 49 of ALS after we were married far too short a time. Sometimes, what kept me from losing my mind completely was the thought that her parents had to put two children in the ground; DW’s younger sister being lost to leukemia a few years before.
My heart goes out to you and her parents. I don’t know what your beliefs are, but the only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that my son is now completely healed and living a new, amazing life.
I’ve read that losing a child is considered more stressful than losing a spouse.
Anyone who thinks times were better in “the good old days” should remember how mush higher infant and child mortality was back then. my maternal great grandmother bore six, and lived to see four of them die. One was the day after birth, one was three, one was eighteen, and one thirtyfive.
Her only daughter that lived to see her own grandchildren was my grandmother. One miscarriage, one who died at birth, and three who lived. But she herself became the longest lived person ever in our family, dying just before her 108th birthday.