Talking about Death with Children

It's so strange that autumn is beautiful, yet everything is dying.- Unknown
As the year dies, it is only natural that our thoughts turn to musings on our own mortality.  For Catholics, Halloween is not only about pumpkins and trick-or-treating; it is the eve of the Feast of All Saints, followed immediately by the Feast of All Souls, days set aside for us to remember and pray for the dead.
As we get older it becomes harder to ignore the fact that every second that passes brings us that much closer to our own deaths.  Children, for whom time seems almost to stand still so that the time between Christmases feels infinite, usually don’t think about the inevitability of death as we do.
But children will encounter death, some sooner than others, and how we prepare them for this and help them deal with it when it comes is important.
There doesn’t have to be some big moment where you sit your kids down and explain death to them.  Better for it to be introduced early, before they can really comprehend it, as a natural process.  You can start with what your kids encounter as they play–dead insects.  If they’ve heard you talking about the fact that an insect is dead from infancy, they’ll always have at least a vague concept of what death is, which you can flesh out later when they have questions.  Tell them that the insect got tired and old and its body couldn’t work anymore, so it was time for it to die.
When they ask questions about their own eventual deaths or yours, it’s best to reassure them by saying that they–and you–are still very young and it will be a long time before you die.  There’s no need to muddy the waters at this point with discussions of death by accident or illness.  Sadly, there will no doubt come a time when you will have to answer those kinds of questions.
My children had their first close encounter with death when my grandmother died.  They were 16, 13, 12, six, and three at the time.  They knew Mima well so they were definitely affected by her death and I felt they should be a part of it.  We told the little ones that, like the insects, Mima was old and her body had worn out, but we also added that she had gone to Heaven to be with God as we all hope to one day. (I personally don’t think that it’s particularly necessary or useful to bring up the concept of Purgatory with little kids right when they are grieving the loss of a loved one.)
We took all the kids with us to the funeral home.  The open casket was at the far end of the room and we let the kids decide whether to approach.  Lorelei and her cousin Ella, who were three and five at the time, were interested and spent time looking at Mima.  William, who was six, did not want to look at her and stayed at the other end of the room.  The children also attended the funeral Mass and the graveside service.
It’s very important not to impose your own–or other people’s–expectations or interpretations on the grieving of children.  They may not look as upset as you think they should look, but don’t make assumptions.  When my dog was hit by a car when I was four, I was very upset, too upset to even talk about it.  I will never forget an adult making the comment that it didn’t seem like I cared very much.  So keep in mind that your children may need space to grieve, or they may need for you to draw them out so that they can express their feelings or ask questions.  I was very impressed by a friend whose husband died when their son was about ten years old.  He wanted to go sit with his friends at the funeral.  Some people might have insisted that he sit up front with the family but she gave him the space he needed and allowed him to find comfort with his friends.
Many children’s first experience with death is the loss of a pet.  My children experienced this for the first time a couple of years ago, when we had to put our elderly dog to sleep.  Lorelei and William accompanied me to the veterinarian and we all supported each other.  I was proud of how brave they were and how they comforted our dog through the process, constantly petting him and reassuring him with loving words.  When kids lose a pet they will almost certainly ask you if the pet will go to Heaven.  The best answer I’ve heard to that question is that when you go to Heaven and want your pet, he will be there.
Like everything else, children will learn more from your actions around death than your words.  Do you talk about how you miss those who have died, or do your avoid discussing uncomfortable feelings?  Do you pray for those who have died and encourage your children to join in? (That’s when you can explain about Purgatory!)  Do you lead by example by attending funerals of those you know whenever possible and encouraging your children to come when appropriate?
My grandfather died when I was 13, and his was the first funeral I ever attended.  For years I was uncomfortable with the whole idea of “viewing” the body, and dreaded going to funerals.  But forcing myself to attend many out of a sense of duty and obligation over the past several years changed my attitude.  In one tragic week several summers ago, a high school friend’s son committed suicide, the father of one of Teddy’s football teammates died in an accident, and the father of one of his classmates committed suicide.  I took Teddy to the funeral of one father, and he accompanied me to take food to the family of the other one.  Set an example for your children with your actions when death touches you, and encourage their participation, and they will internalize the value of these rituals and will not fear them.
This post is part of the Catholic Women Bloggers Network Bloghop.  For more writing on this topic, click below.
blog hop death

They Come in Threes

Deaths, that is.  Maybe it’s just the constant desire to look for patterns and meanings, but I’ve found it to be true.
I remember one day last summer on which I attended a memorial Mass in the morning, took a meal to a bereaved family that afternoon, and went to a benefit for a grieving mother in the evening.  Three deaths, all tragic, all in the same week.
You already know I lost my cousin on All Saints Day.  He did not want a memorial service of any kind, and his family abided by his wishes.  I was disappointed, because I love funerals.  Besides the closure they provide–which I think is necessary to the grieving process–I love family funerals for the opportunity to connect with people I don’t often get a chance to see otherwise.  Now no one enjoys funeral when the person has died tragically and way too young, but a funeral for one who has lived a full and long life is another story. This evening I attended a visitation for the mother of a family friend, a lady I did not know personally.  She was 93 years old, and the room was packed with relatives and friends, both hers and her sons’.
Earlier today I attended a funeral Mass for a true patriarch of our parish.  George Willard was baptized at Immaculate Conception 86 years ago.  Married for 56 years, he and his wife had seven children, and each of their 21 grandchildren carried up a rose at the Offertory.  Toward the end of Mass the oldest son spoke of his father’s childlike faith, and indeed one of my lasting memories of Mr. Willard will be the way he always approached the altar for Communion, with his hands together in prayer–not clasped carelessly at waist level like most adults, but palm to palm in the manner of a little child.
paying hands
While the tears flowed freely throughout the service, the joyful spirit of the event was evident from the opening song:  “Oh When the Saints Go Marching In,” and it seemed like a good portion of Knoxville was in on the celebration when we exited the Church to the sounds of the Veterans Day Parade proceeding down Gay Street just at the bottom of the Summit Hill.
Come to their aid, O Saints of God,
Come meet them angels of the Lord.
Receive their souls, O holy ones;
Present them now to God Most High.
May Christ who called you, take you home
Angels lead you to Abraham.
Receive their souls, O holy ones;
Present them now to God Most High.
Give them eternal rest, O Lord,
May light unending shine on them.
Receive their souls, O holy ones;
Present them now to God Most High.
I know that my Redeemer lives,
The last day I shall rise again.
Receive their souls, O holy ones;
Present them now to God Most High