Category: Children and Death

Hello again!  Last week I wrote about the emotions that might be swirling around for both children and adults when death comes to call.  Today, I thought it might be helpful to write a little about concrete things that you can do to make things a little easier on yourself and your children during a time when very little will be easy for any of you.

First, let me say yet again, that it’s okay to be honest about what’s going on.  Don’t make things up or deny that they’re happening.  That goes for the actual death and everybody’s reactions, including yours.  You don’t have to pretend that things are okay when they’re not.

Is there anything the dying can do before they leave us to make their departure a little easier on their children?  In some cases–when they have the time and the energy–I think so.  I should probably mention that it really helps to have the legal stuff taken care of: advanced directives, guardianship issues, etc.  I’m not going to go into that here, but it sure does help to have that locked down.  On a more interpersonal level, I’ve seen the dying work very hard to write letters or cards to their children, perhaps to be opened on future birthdays or major milestones.  We encourage children to “interview” their loved ones before they die, asking anything from what’s their favorite color to their favorite memory to what they are worried about as they face their death.  It’s great if you can tape it.  Doing something with handprints–paint, plaster–etc. I think is nice, too–really, any sort of joint project that you can keep will be treasured forever.

One thing that often seems to be overlooked is for the dying to say, out loud, that they don’t want to leave everyone.  I heard a story recently from one of our nurses about a child (an adult child, actually), expressing anger that his mother died with a smile on her face.  The nurse was so puzzled by this.  Why would he be mad that his mom died happy?  It didn’t seem so strange to me, though:  he probably felt abandoned, wondering if she wanted to die and leave him alone.  She may have been so tired of the pain and suffering that she was elated to be moving on, but there he was, still stuck on earth without her.  That’s really not that uncommon a reaction of the bereaved.  As such, if the dying can talk to their loved ones (regardless of their age) and assure them that they don’t want to leave them, that if they could keep fighting and be healthy they would, it might go a long way in consoling those that remain.  (That isn’t to say that the dying should keep fighting, just that they aren’t looking forward to leaving everyone behind.)

Should you take your children to see the sick and dying?  What about taking them to funerals?  Well, it depends on the kid and the situation.  You should never force a child to do either.  You don’t want to expose them to something that terrifies them–death should be sad, but not scary.  If they are willing to go, I don’t think it’s a bad idea.  It can help demystify death and help them to say goodbye.  You should be sure to explain in advance what they are going to see there.  The fewer surprises the better.  I went to several funerals as a child, and my own kids have attended some already.  I think it helped me become comfortable with death, and hopefully my kids will be, too.  Some children attend the actual death, which can also be nice –a lot of deaths are actually treated as celebrations.  Personally, though, if there is any chance that it will be messy or difficult, I would say to keep the kids away.

One thing that always stumped me until very recently was how to explain cremation to a child.  I am actually a fan of cremation, but could never bring myself to go into details with my kids.  We have three urns on the bookcase–one for each deceased kitty–and I just told them that their bodies turned to” dirt”.  I didn’t tell them that someone put Lucy, Elle, and Spencer into a fiery furnace and burned them until all that was left was ashes.  Luckily, they never really asked how our cats turned into “dirt” (another example of the wisdom of not over explaining things).  After researching, it, though, apparently you should say that the deceased’s body, which cannot feel any pain, is put in a room or machine that helped speed up the process of turning them into dirt.  You’re supposed to avoid words like “burn” or “fire.”  Here’s a resource on explaining cremation.

What should you say about the afterlife?  Well, that, of course, depends on your beliefs.  Maybe you have strong feelings about what happens, and assuming the children are your own, feel free to share them.  I don’t personally have any beliefs about it–I’m not expecting anything, though am open to being pleasantly surprised if there is something there waiting for me when it’s my time.  Not having anything celestial to share with children I talk with, including my own, I often focus on how the departed are still always with us in our hearts and minds, and as such live on forever.  It’s not the same as when they were alive, of course, but in some ways they never really leave us.  Lately, however, I’m starting to believe that there is some sort of more tangible reunion after, or at least during, death. Almost all of the dying people I interact with report seeing loved ones who have died before them.  If you read the book Final Gifts I’m pretty sure you’ll believe me. (Actually, if you ever want to feel better about death, you should read that book.  We read it in our hospice book group, and the general consensus was that dying could be amazing.) So, I now personally feel more comfortable in saying that we will all see each other again some day.

That being said, it’s really important to not talk about heaven or something similar in such glowing terms that young children try to get there on their own.  While death can be a celebration, it’s important to be clear to kids that it’s still sad, and not something to be hoped for.

So, that concludes my own take on talking with kids about death.  As I mentioned in my first post on this topic, there are some great resources out there to check out.

I’m going to take next week off as I’ll be out of town.  I’m planning to next post on Monday, April 28th.  Looking forward, I may be taking much of the summer off, too, as I need to study for a licensing exam.  We’ll see how it goes, but if there was something you were hoping I’d write about that I haven’t gotten around to yet, let me know.  I aim to please.  And, as always, thanks for reading!

Last week I wrote about talking with kids about death when you have an “unemotional opportunity,”  i.e., when nobody died, or seems likely to.  That, of course, is a nice position to be in.  But, inevitably, we will all find ourselves, at one point or another, having to deal with death in reality, as opposed to just as a possibility.  If that’s happening to you now, or is about to, I’m sorry.  It’s never easy.  I’m assuming that you’re an adult reading this–I don’t think I have a lot of young readers.  So, you are probably trying to figure out how to talk to a child while dealing with your own grief.  There are a lot of good resources out there on how to do this–there are some suggestions on last week’s post.  So, what follows is, again, just my own advice, based on my own thoughts and experiences.  This week I’ll focus on emotions: yours and theirs.  Next week, I’ll write about what to “do.”  Hopefully, you will find it to be helpful.

First, let’s assume that you, too, are sad.  Maybe you’re beyond sad.  Maybe you can barely hold yourself together.  Well, if you’re trying to take care of kids, I would suggest that you: A) Get as much help as you possibly can–don’t be afraid to ask!  It takes a village, you know.  B) Be honest with your kids.  You don’t have to pretend that you’re not sad.  You don’t have to act like everything is okay.  It’s not okay.  If you can, try not to have a complete meltdown in front of them.  Maybe do that in the bathroom with the door closed (if you’re ever able to actually close the door to the bathroom. I’m not sure ours even work that way).  Though, you know, if it happens, it happens.  But you can explain that you’re sad, and that you will cry from time to time, and that doesn’t mean that you are broken in any way.  They can cry, too, if they want to.  You don’t have to keep a stiff upper lip all of the time.

In general, being in touch with your emotions and not trying to hide them facilitates healing.  In fact, while it might be hard to see it now, grief can actually bring a family together.  Of course, it can also drive people apart.  It’s more likely to do that if people build up walls between themselves.  If you can reach out to each other in your grief–including your children–then you’re more likely to grow closer instead of further apart.

But, that being said, again, it’s important to reach out for help.  While you can come together in your pain, it’s often too much to expect another grieving loved one to support you, regardless of their age.  This often happens to parents after the death of a child.  They’re too bereft to hold each other up.  While it’s great if you can grieve together, look to others who are not so shaken by the loss to help you as well.  Friends, other family, professionals.  We have to be able to tend to ourselves, too, not just to others.  So, back to the original point:  if you are grieving, be honest about your grief with your children, but also enlist others to help you and them.  You can’t do it all.  And it’s good for your kids to know that it’s okay to ask for help.

Okay, so you can cry.  What, you may be asking, do you say in between the tears?  Well, again, honesty is a good policy.  Start by asking them what they know or think is going on.   Kids are usually aware if someone is sick, even if you’re trying to hide it.  If it is an illness, you can generally explain what’s going on, and take lots of time to answer their questions.  Again, it’s okay to say that you don’t know.  A lot of kids have misconceptions, such as cancer being contagious.  It’s a good idea to at least make sure that they’re not developing fears based on false information.   We have a nice workbook that we use at our hospice called “Changes” that goes over how the body changes during illness, and explores death in terms of change.  It allows for kids to explore their own situations, and emphasizes that that change is a part of life.

Ask them what they’re worried about.  Try to reassure them.  Emphasize that someone will always be there to take care of them.

Kids may be having all sorts of emotional reactions to what is going on, just as we all do.  A lot of times they may feel very guilty.  Kids may think that they did something to cause the death–kicking their brother, failing a spelling test, not washing their hands–who knows.  This is another reason why it’s really important to try to understand what they’re thinking about, so that you can reassure them that it’s not their fault.

They can also feel very angry, at anyone and everyone.  They may feel abandoned by the dying or the deceased.  I’ll talk a little more about this next week, but in general, try to be understanding, while at the same time still letting them know that there are still acceptable limits to their behaviors.  Kids like to feel like someone is in charge.  But don’t take it personally, or think that they’re insensitive.  Anger is a legitimate form of grief.

So, guilt, anger…sadness of course–all possible options.  But kids may sometimes seem indifferent, or even happy now and then.  When I talk to kids who are experiencing a loss, or about to, I always reassure them that there isn’t a certain way they are supposed to feel or act.  They will feel different things at different times, and whatever it is, it’s all okay.  If they’re not crying all of the time (or at all), or if they even laugh now and then, it doesn’t mean that they didn’t love the person who died.  Everyone–adults and children–experience grief in their own way at their own pace, and it should never be judged.  In my younger days I almost never cried, and certainly never did it in public.  When my brother and I spoke at our grandmother’s funeral, he cried so much that he couldn’t finish his speach.  I, however, was completely dry-eyed.  A family friend pulled me aside after the funeral and, nodding toward my brother, said, “You know, people like to see tears at funerals.” Yes, well, thanks for telling me.   I adored my grandmother, and I miss her every day, but the tears didn’t show up for about two months. So, you know, give your kids–and everyone else, including yourself– some space.  You will all grieve at your own pace.  Just try to be there for them when they need you.

So, those are a few of my thoughts on talking with kids when there has been a death: be honest, and be gentle, both on them and on yourself.  I’ll write more about what to “do” next week.  And, as always, thanks for reading.