the next generation

teaching our children about death

We have an opportunity not only to improve our own lot, but to make sure that the next generation is better able to cope with death and dying when they come upon it. And so, as we learn about death ourselves, we also need to teach our children about mortality, the dying process, the rituals of death, and the ensuing grief. To do this, we must talk honestly with them, listen to their thoughts and questions, and support them through any personal loss.

Most of us instinctively shield our children from pain and sorrow. With good intentions, we guide them to things that are joyful and easy, and keep them from things that are upsetting. When we visit a seriously ill relative in the hospital, we leave the children at home; when we go to a funeral, we send the children to a friend’s house; and when we talk about death, we keep our voices hushed. This, we decide, is “too much” for them, “it doesn’t involve them,” they’re “too young to understand.”

But children, even very young children, know when something is askew. They hear what is said, especially when it is said in low, serious voices. They are aware of the disruption of the household. They feel the distress of their parents and others. And they are deeply affected by it. When we don’t explain what is happening, we leave them to imagine the worst and to cope with their feelings alone. And we leave them with the message that this subject is taboo.

In one of my earliest memories I am about four years old, standing on the blacktop of our driveway. The hedge of yellow forsythia is in full bloom. I am being shuffled over to a station wagon as my best friend’s mother explains to me that I am going to their house for the night because my grandmother has died and my parents are going to the funeral. Died? I was bewildered. What was that about? Why hadn’t my parents told me about this? And why had I been left behind?

Children have varying abilities to comprehend death. Child psychologists and grief experts say that children become vaguely aware of death as young as two or three. They know that things die, and certainly, if a death occurs close to home, they will be keenly aware that something serious has happened and that people in the household are upset. At this age, you can begin to introduce the concept of death to a child by talking about the squirrel that is killed on the road, the leaves that fall from a tree, cut flowers that begin to droop.

By age five, children understand that people die, but they tend to see it as a temporary state and cannot—no matter how much you explain it—understand that someone can be gone forever. Theirs is a sort of Wile E. Coyote view of death. The cartoon coyote, in his endless quest for the roadrunner, drops off the edge of canyons and gets clobbered by anvils, but he is always back to the drawing board in the next scene.

Between the ages of five and nine, children begin to realize that death is irreversible, yet they tend to think that it can’t happen to them or anyone in their family. They may also view death as being some sort of boogeyman who comes and takes people away. From nine to twelve, they understand the permanence of death and that it is a biological process. They might feel threatened by death, and some become interested in skeletons, ghosts, coffins, and other death images. Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, in On Death and Dying, says that children will sometimes feel guilt-ridden, believing that they are in some way responsible for the death of a parent or other loved one. Because they can’t differentiate between a wish and a deed, she explains, they may recall some moment when they wished a parent would die or disappear, and reason that this is simply a wish coming true. Others may feel, as in a divorce, that because they were bad or unlovable, they caused the disappearance of their relative or friend.

Finally, during their teen years, most children realize that they themselves could die. As a defense, or maybe in defiance, they sometimes act as if they don’t care. They might decide that they are immortal and engage in reckless, dangerous behaviors. Teens will respond to the death of someone they love much as an adult would. The loss of a parent during these turbulent years can be unbearable.

when children are about

Be open about death. When my son Jack was three or four, I took a stack of books out of the library one day without reading through them. One book appeared to be about a boy’s love for his grandmother, but as I began reading it to him that night I realized that while it was about that love, it was also about the subsequent death of Grandma, and the boy’s grief over that loss. As soon as I realized where the story was heading, I said something like, “Oh, this is sad. Let’s read a different book,” and laid it down by the bedside. But my son’s interest was piqued. Not only did he demand that we finish it, but over the next few days it was the first book he grabbed each time we sat down to read. At first, I hid the book under the stack, hoping he would forget about it. But he didn’t, and finally I gave in. I read it. Over and over. He asked a trail of questions, and I struggled to answer them. (“Mommy, will you and Daddy die one day?” “Do I have to die?” “If everyone dies, does that mean that one day there won’t be any people left on the Earth?”) It was awkward for me. I didn’t like having this conversation with my little boy. I wanted to talk about something else. Anything else. But gradually I realized that this conversation wasn’t frightening to him. It wasn’t scaring him. He was simply curious, and this was an opportunity for us to discuss death matter-of-factly, when we were not dealing with a real death.

A year later, when Jack’s paternal grandmother was terminally ill, I was glad that we had had those discussions, because now we could fall back on them. He was clear and direct about it all, but also very tender. He visited his grandmother at her home, where she was under the care of a hospice program. He played in her wheelchair, brought her flowers, and then, when she died, drew a touching picture of her with hearts all around, which he placed on her coffin. I was proud of him, and also grateful that he had pushed me into a conversation that I was reluctant to have.

It’s not necessary to run out and buy children’s books about death (although there are good ones available, some of which are listed at the end of this chapter), nor is it necessary to force a discussion about death. But when the subject comes up—certainly if there is a death in the family, but even if there is a death in a movie, a death in the community, or the death of a pet—fight the urge to insulate your children. Encourage their questions and be open and honest with your answers.

You can be selective in the information you provide, and you should certainly explain anything in terms that are appropriate for the age of the child. There’s no point in discussing the pros and cons of specific medical treatments or the details of some agonizing symptom with a five-year-old. But you can explain that a grandparent is seriously ill and is not expected to live long.

Initiate the conversation. When a family friend or relative is terminally ill, children often don’t ask questions because they are not sure if this is safe turf, or because they simply don’t know what questions to ask. They only know that something unusual is going on and they are scared by it. Instead of asking questions, they might adopt your stress and turn into whining tyrants, further straining your meager emotional reserve. Rather than helping them to cope with death, you find yourself screaming at them to leave you alone.

It may be up to you to start the conversation. Explain what is going on, and why you are upset. Ask your children if they have any questions. Let them know that you are there for them if there is anything they want to talk about. And then raise the subject again later.

Adolescents, in particular, may be reluctant to open up. They might act detached, as if they don’t care. Work within their framework. Don’t force them to express their feelings, but let them know that you are available. They might talk more freely if you discuss your own fears, sadness, and confusion, if you admit that you feel empty or angry. Or you might discuss your feelings with someone else, within earshot of the youth. That often gives them permission to explore their own stew of conflicted emotions.

No matter the age of the child, encourage discussion long after the loved one has died. Dealing with death is a process that never ends. Children will have questions and concerns for years after Grandpa or Mom or Aunt Grace has died.

Be ready when they are. Unfortunately, children don’t always talk on your schedule, when you are off the phone, ready and available. More often, they want to talk when you can’t. And they don’t “save” their questions and emotions for later. So when you ask, “Honey, what’s up?” they insist it was “nothing.”

Do whatever you can to be available on their schedule. Put down the phone, stop cooking, turn off the television. Let them know that their questions and reactions are important and worthy of your full attention.

Avoid euphemisms. Children, as well as adults, do better with honest explanations. If you say that Granny has gone to sleep and will never wake up, or that God has taken her, or that she has gone on a long trip and will never come back, you may find that your child doesn’t want to go to bed, take a trip, or have much to do with God.

Dr. Paul Brinich, clinical professor of psychology and psychiatry at the University of North Carolina, tells the story of a young child, two or three years old, who had a fit when her father was at the airport about to leave on a business trip. She didn’t want her father to fly and insisted that he not leave. It turned out that her grandmother had died recently and the parents had explained that Grandma had gone to heaven, which was up in the sky. Now here was Dad about to get on a plane and go up into the sky. She put two and two together and was not letting anyone she cared about leave the ground.

Of course the parents may not have been speaking euphemistically; they may have been relaying what they perceived to be the truth. But a young child takes these messages more literally than we imagine. So we need to think things through before we offer such explanations.

Be honest, even if that means saying that you don’t know the answer to some questions. And don’t push the conversation beyond the child’s interest or level of understanding. Keep it simple and then let them push the conversation as far as they want it to go.

Listen carefully. More important than what you say is what you hear. When you talk about death, explain the situation and then listen. Ask young children to explain their understanding of what you’ve said. Often what seems like a clear explanation to our ears is completely misconstrued by a youngster.

Also, children are often concerned about issues that wouldn’t occur to a grown-up. They might have practical concerns (Who’s going to live in Grandma’s room now?), they might have scientific questions (Won’t she be cold in the ground? Can she see me still?), or they might be haunted by frightening thoughts (Will anyone else in our family die too? Is this illness contagious?). The only way you’ll know what is on their minds is to ask and listen.

Let them take part. When there is a death or illness in the family’s inner circle, be aware of a child’s involvement and needs. Our habit of ignoring children at these times is a bad one. Children have much to gain from these experiences, for not only do they learn that death is a natural event, but they also need this involvement just as adults do, to help them grieve.

When someone is sick, let children help if they want to. A young child might comb Grandma’s hair, help assemble her dinner, or entertain her. Children can be quite compassionate and often want very much to help; they simply don’t know how.

The big question is, should you bring children to funerals or to visit loved ones who are near death? In general, the answer is yes. Although we worry that children will be upset, they are often more frightened by what they don’t see than by what they do. Furthermore, they need the chance to say good-bye. However, there may be cases when a visit is not advisable. For example, when a patient is so disfigured and unrecognizable the visit will only be upsetting for the child. Use your own judgment—and, to some extent, the child’s judgment. Explain what the visit will be like, and then let the child decide if he or she wants to come. Children as young as five or six can often make such a decision for themselves.

If you bring children along, don’t expect them to be solemn or quiet or even particularly well behaved. It’s hard not to snap at them because, of course, your nerves are already sizzling like a severed electrical wire. But try to remember that children are not being disrespectful; they are being children. They may be bored; they may be responding to the stress of others; or they might be trying to cope with their own grief. Like adults, children can only tolerate so much. Keep visits brief. If you bring children to a funeral, especially a lengthy one, bring some small treats and quiet activities along, and try to have someone on hand who can accompany them if they want to leave.

As for whether a dying person should come home to die when there are children in the house, Dr. Kübler-Ross addresses that question beautifully in her book To Live Until We Say Good-bye. “Children are overjoyed to have a parent out of the hospital and back at home,” she says. Whatever restrictions are placed on them—to be quiet or not have friends over—are outweighed by having a parent near. “The most important thing, no matter how ill a parent is, is for a child to be near his or her mother or father, to have them physically close and not isolated and away at a hospital where children can never visit,” she says.

Create memorials. Children should be encouraged to do something to memorialize a loved one who has died, to recognize the relationship and the loss. Young children might draw pictures or make flowers to put with the coffin or in a special place in the house. Older ones might create a scrapbook, organize photos, or write poetry or a story about the relationship. All of this helps them to grieve and accept death and, perhaps, face it a little more openly and less fearfully in the future.

A number of books can help children understand death. Here are a few good ones:

For preschool children:

The Dead Bird by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Remy Charlip. (Young Scott Books)

The Tenth Good Thing About Barney by Judith Viorst, illustrated by Erik Blegvad. (Atheneum)

For children 5 to 8:

Annie and the Old One by Miska Miles, illustrated by Peter Parnall. (Little Brown & Co.)

Nana Upstairs and Nana Downstairs by Tomie DePaola. (Putnam)

My Grandpa Died Today by Joan Fassler. (Human Sciences Press)

The Fall of Freddie the Leaf by Leo F. Buscaglia. (Holt Rinehart Winston)

For children 8 and up:

A Taste of Blackberries by Doris B. Smith. (Thomas Y. Crowell Co.)

Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White, illustrated by Garth Williams. (HarperCollins)

The Birds’ Christmas Carol by Kate Douglas Wiggin. (Houghton-Mifflin)