Children Grieve, Too

When a death occurs in a family, adults often huddle together trying to make sense of what has happened and to comfort each other the best they can. But what about the children? Are they receiving the comfort and support they need, or are they simply hustled off to another room to occupy themselves until everyone else gets their act together again? Brandy Hammack's article Helping Children Deal With Grief will open your eyes to a need that is often neglected during a time of bereavement.

I once taught 6th grade in a small country school where community news spread like wildfire. One morning, the janitor, who was still cleaning up my classroom before the children arrived, informed me that the father of one of my students had dropped dead from a heart attack the evening before.

Naturally, I wondered how this would affect his daughter, Katy, who was a very quiet little girl who didn't seem to have any special friends. I thought I would talk it over with my husband that evening to see what he thought. Should I call personally on the family? Or maybe send flowers for the memorial service? What would I say to Katy when she came back to school? Should I clue the other children in on how to treat her? (Did I even know how to treat her, myself?)

Well, there was no little talk with my husband. Five minutes later, Katy walked into the classroom and took her seat. She said, "Hi, Mrs. Gibson," like she did every morning. I started back to her desk, but just then the kids from the early bus came flooding in. I knew that some of them had heard the news from the way they looked at Katy, but no one said a word. I held my peace until recess and then stopped Kathy on her way out to the playground and said, rather weakly, "I'm sorry about your Father, Katy." She nodded her head, pushed past me out to the playground, and was soon involved in a game of dodge ball with the other kids.

I sent flowers, and a note, but Katy remained as stoic as ever. She never mentioned her Father again and neither did I. At the end of the year, the class surprised me with a fancy autograph book, and each child had taken a whole page to write me a letter. To this day, that book is still one of my most precious possessions.

Katy had written, "Mrs. Gibson, you were so wonderful to me the day my Dad died. Everyone tried to make me talk about him but you never did. Thank you. I knew I couldn't do it. Good-bye. I hope I see you again someday."

I decided then and there that everyone, even children, reacts differently to the death of someone they love. Katy didn't want to talk about her Dad. I, unknowingly, at the time, gave her what she wanted. Other children may have a desperate need to talk over every little detail.

The article I mentioned above, by Brandy Hammack, recognizes that kids need an opportunity to discuss their feelings, but should not be pressured into it. She gives some wonderful examples of how an adult can go about dealing with whatever the particular child's needs are.

One suggestion she made was to help the child construct a scrapbook with pictures of the deceased loved one and perhaps some written memories to go with the pictures.

A couple of her other ideas caught my fancy, too. She tells of a little boy writing a letter to his Dad and sending it into the sky on a balloon, and of a little girl capturing a butterfly and whispering a message for her grandmother to it. Then she released the butterfly to deliver the message. Of course, older children may realize that these ideas may not actually achieve the purpose the child intended, but, for a little while, at least, they are good coping mechanisms.

Most of all, if you check out the article, I hope that it would make you realize that adults are not the only ones who suffer grief, and that it might prepare you for a time when the opportunity arises in your own life to help a grieving child.