12/13/2023
Honest conversations with children about death...
Talking to children about death.
Being in the holiday season, I’m reminded that death doesn’t take a vacation so that we can fully enjoy our family meals and opening gifts in a cozy atmosphere amongst the ones we love.
No, death lives by death’s rules and no one else’s. It quite hard to grasp those “rules” when they are constantly changing, evolving and sneaking up on us seemingly out of the blue.
It’s not like an employee handbook or guidelines given to a new employee upon hiring. You aren’t alerted to how things will go with death; you have to wing it a bit, much like it appears that death does.
I read every comment on my posts. Every single one. I may not always be able to respond but I do take the time to read them.
I see the comments with loved ones in hospice, or a child with a terminal illness, or a holiday anniversary with a death date of a loved one, adding just that much more heartache to the holidays.
These people who are nearing their last breaths, have children. Some grown and some still frolicking in the innocence of their youth.
Talking to adults about death is one thing, talking to young children about death is a whole new ballgame made even more difficult during what is supposed to be the most “wonderful time of the year".
Here’s how I talk to my oldest son, Jeremiah about death.
I tell him that I don’t have all the answers.
I tell him that it makes me scared too.
And when someone we love inevitably dies, I won’t hide my tears from him.
Because I want to give him permission to cry (and feel anything he needs to feel). And I’ll give him
permission by leading by example.
I’ll respect the uniqueness of his grief.
I won’t project my fears onto him.
I won’t project my experience onto his.
I’ll let him experience all his feelings, while reassuring him that I’m there for him if he needs me. . . not as
an expert on death or grief, but as a brother in his grief because his love and his grief are just as valid as
mine.
I’ll let him decide whether or not he sees the body of the deceased (but I’ll gently encourage him to see it
because tough and hard things aren’t the same as bad things).
I talk about death with him now.
I’ve let him know that someday I’ll die and his mom will die, but that every time we love each other a piece
of us gets embedded in him.
And I’ll fight — and fight as hard as I can — for his dreams because we only get one shot at life.
I won’t keep his own mortality a secret. I’ll let him know how wonderful and frightening this journey can be, but it’s a journey we can walk together.
I’ll show my love to him as smartly and as often as I can because I know how fast time flies and how short
life is.
And I’ll let him move our caskets from our storage garage because pushing caskets down the sidewalk
can be weird and fun all at the same time.
(part repost from blog and older photo used)
