Calliope, looking at the two bathrobes hanging in my bathroom, "Mommy, you have a purple bathrobe now."
Me, "Yes, that's right. Grammy didn't need hers anymore so I took it."
Calliope, "So Grammy will have the blue one?"
Me, "No, Grammy doesn't need a bathrobe because she died."
Calliope, "So when people die, do they need a bathing suit?"
Me, "No, when people die, they don't need clothes any more."
Calliope, wide eyed, "So people have to die naked?"
Me, "....No, they don't have to die naked." Stumbling. My heart in my stomach. I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to tell her about people wearing clothes to go into caskets, but not needing extra changes of clothes since they are decomposing in the ground. And I can't tell her about heaven because I'm not a believer.
I scramble for thought for a minute while I continue getting dressed.
Finally... Me, "When a person dies, their body stops working. So they don't clothes any more, and they don't eat food any more. We can't see them any more. But we remember them in our hearts, and in our memories."
Calliope, "Oh!," sounding very surprised. But not asking any more questions.