Podcasts: Cariad Lloyd interviews celebs about losing a loved one. It’s far from a downer
Griefcast features interviews with such celebrities as Aisling Bea, Adam Buxton and Ana Matronic
By Sarah Griffin
A few weeks ago, I covered a podcast called Death in the Afternoon, hosted by funeral directors and experts in the business and cultural history of dying and bereavement. Griefcast, hosted by comic Cariad Lloyd, is a far more intimate examination of grief and loss. Lloyd interviews a person – usually a fellow comedian – about a person close to them who has died. She lost her father when she was 15, which is the central thesis of this podcast: it’s a project about normalising conversations around death. This year, it won in three major categories at the British Podcast Awards and it’s very clear why.
I had been tiptoeing around this podcast for a while, aware of Lloyd as a comedian and gifted improviser, but had been unsettled at the idea of listening to two people dig into a conversation about death in such a personal capacity. Podcasts are already a very intimate medium, and this kind of intimate conversation seemed a long way from the peripheral. However, I am so glad I took the leap – Griefcast has made its way swiftly into my top podcasts of the year. I haven’t been able to stop listening.
Philosophical
This doesn’t come from a voyeurism, necessarily, which may seem hard to believe given the fact that each episode is an hour-ish long interview about loss. Rather, there is something hugely philosophical about each conversation, some wisdom imparted about the horror – and mundanity – of death. Every subject handles it differently, and Lloyd conducts the interviews with huge grace. She is the other person in the conversation, for sure, and acts as a very powerful conduit for conversations that cannot be absolutely easy for the subject, no matter how much levity they conduct themselves with.
Cariad Lloyd: conducts the interviews with huge grace.
The episodes I started with were interviews with Aisling Bea, Adam Buxton and Ana Matronic, all of whom had lost their fathers. Buxton is serene and gentle in his discussions of losing his father – this interview was given only months after his passing. Ana Matronic is a powerful storyteller; her father died of Aids when she was 15, and her episode is a portrait of the late 1980s in America, but also about how stigma operates.
My recommendation as a starting point is Aisling Bea’s episode, which is raw and angry and extremely real. I was floored by the integrity and honesty Bea brought to the interview regarding her father’s death – and her admittance that some days she just didn’t want to talk about it, but she was going to talk about it anyway.
Fascinating
Not only are the stories that the interview subjects dispense important, but the manner in which they dispense them is fascinating too. I cannot stress, either, how none of the episodes I have listened to so far have been downers, or left me feeling distressed. Certainly they are emotional listens at times, but there is an ease to the atmosphere Lloyd creates and facilitates here – which in many regards is a deeply courageous thing to do, as a person who has suffered a loss. She offers hers simply and honestly at the beginning of every episode – her dad died when she was 15 – and sets the tone that this next hour is a place for big, big chats.
I wholly recommend this as a listen, whether or not you have experienced the death of someone close to you. It is one of those rare pieces that, without ego or self-congratulation, examines a vital component of the human condition.
‘They say you’ve got three months to live.” These were the words I spoke to my then-fiancé when I was 23 years old after learning that his cancer – malignant melanoma that spread to his liver, lungs, pancreas and brain – was likely to be fatal.
At the time, my only experience of “the end” was watching my parents disappear into a room where my grandparents were lying, and of seeing an empty rabbit hut at the end of our garden after the loss of a pet.
When I was 17 years old my father was paralysed from Hodgkins Lymphoma but, after a stem cell transplant, he defeated the odds and made a miraculous recovery. So, I had faith in the power of modern medicine over mortality.
However, not this time.
I was practically still a child when a doctor ushered me into a private room, whilst my soon-to-be husband, Eoghan, was in a chemotherapy session, and revealed his prognosis. I asked if I could be the one to tell him, and they readily agreed.
Perhaps, even doctors will do anything to avoid saying the T-word. Terminal.
In the next three months, I had a crash course in end-of-life conversation: the jargon, the euphemisms and the social awkwardness.
I froze with fear when I walked into the chemo ward and heard another patient ask my partner, “Have you ever thought about euthanasia?” But, in a way, that was better than the wall of silence.
After my husband died three weeks after our wedding day, even my closest friends evaporated or became stiff in my company. In the next few months, as I rebelled against my grief – drinking too much and becoming promiscuous – nobody dared challenge me or raise the topics I ached to discuss.
What on earth are you doing?
Do you really think this is helping you?
How does it feel to marry a man who is dying?
…Do you want to die too?
Do you know what to say when a friend’s loved one dies? Have you thought about the day your own parent, partner or best friend may no longer be visible? How would you discuss it, in a way that would be supportive, constructive, and even light-hearted?
If you don’t know the answer, you’re not alone.
A new study from the Royal College of Physicians in the UK has urged medical professionals to improve their bedside manner when it comes to discussing death, after identifying that “timely, honest conversations” about patients’ futures are not happening. However it’s not only doctors who need to become more comfortable with these conversations.
It’s been suggested that millennials are the generation most fearful of death, unlike our grandparents, raised through world wars, who learnt that life can be short. As medicine advances and life expectancy increases, we prefer to think of death as our “future self’s problem”.
But is postponing the inevitable increasing our terror of it?
As psychologists report a rise in young people presenting with anxiety linked to death, it’s time for honest, open, educational conversations about loss of life, and how it can look. Its not enough to be aware of Facebook’s ‘death policy’, warn experts.
“Death is still a certainty even if people are living longer,” says clinical psychologist Renee Mill from Sydney’s Anxiety Solutions CBT.
“When treating anxiety, exposure is what works and avoidance increases the problem. Talking about death or visiting a dying person will decrease your fear of death and make it easier to accept that it is a part of life. Every funeral we attend, no matter how hard, actually helps to reduce anxiety in this way too.”
And, it’s never too early to think about the end. “Planning in life is important,” says Mill. “We plan our careers, we save, we want to buy property – end-of-life is another part we need to plan. It means we get our wishes fulfilled and gives guidance to our loved ones who otherwise have to pick up the pieces.”
In a good way, change is happening. Since 2017, the multimedia project We’re All Going to Die has encouraged people to embrace their immortality and use it to empower their lives, through educational films and festivals.
The award-winning podcast, GriefCast, hosted by comedian Cariad Lloyd whose father died when she was a teenager, sees entertainers speak with startling honesty – and surprising humour – about death, from the logistics of palliative care and funeral plans to the long-term effects of bereavement.
When we can talk openly about death, we may also increase our chances of reducing suicides. To help people to help each other, Lifeline offer an online course in QPR – the equivalent of CPR for people experiencing a suicidal crisis.
As part of the training – which only takes an hour and costs $10 – people are urged not to tiptoe around the conversations. Instead, be direct: “Do you feel like you want to die?”
In our social circles, we need to discuss worst-case-scenarios. Do you have a will? Do you have death insurance? Are you an organ donor? As an Australian immigrant living 16,000 kilometres from my parents, I always have enough money in my bank account for an emergency flight home. Because, nobody lives forever.
It’s confronting but it’s necessary
During my book tour, I cried on stage for the first time whilst discussing my journey from a 23-year-old widow to a 34-year-old wife and mother of two. Because, for the first time in a decade, I have reached a place where I can talk about my experience of death – and really be heard.
I shared the reason I light a candle in my bedroom every evening and say a prayer: help me to act from a place of love, not fear.
“If my dad’s cancer comes back, on that day I will light that candle,” I said, “If my husband, who is here with my newborn, dies and I am widowed again then I will light that candle to remind myself to act from a place of love.”
We need to talk about death to be active participants in the full spectrum of life: so we can decide who to be when a doctor pulls us into a private room, when we answer the phone to bad news, when we say goodbye for the last time.
We are so scared of death, we don’t discuss what an honour it is to watch someone die; to be present – really present – when someone takes their last breath, to lean in and breathe them in, to put your head on their chest as their heart stops beating and kiss their skin as it transforms.
A loved one’s suicide can be emotionally devastating. Use healthy coping strategies — such as seeking support — to begin the journey to healing and acceptance.
When a loved one dies by suicide, overwhelming emotions can leave you reeling. Your grief might be heart wrenching. At the same time, you might be consumed by guilt — wondering if you could have done something to prevent your loved one’s death.
As you face life after a loved one’s suicide, remember that you don’t have to go through it alone.
Brace for powerful emotions
A loved one’s suicide can trigger intense emotions. For example:
Shock. Disbelief and emotional numbness might set in. You might think that your loved one’s suicide couldn’t possibly be real.
Anger. You might be angry with your loved one for abandoning you or leaving you with a legacy of grief — or angry with yourself or others for missing clues about suicidal intentions.
Guilt. You might replay “what if” and “if only” scenarios in your mind, blaming yourself for your loved one’s death.
Despair. You might be gripped by sadness, loneliness or helplessness. You might have a physical collapse or even consider suicide yourself.
Confusion. Many people try to make some sense out of the death, or try to understand why their loved one took his or her life. But, you’ll likely always have some unanswered questions.
Feelings of rejection. You might wonder why your relationship wasn’t enough to keep your loved one from dying by suicide.
You might continue to experience intense reactions during the weeks and months after your loved one’s suicide — including nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty concentrating, social withdrawal and loss of interest in usual activities — especially if you witnessed or discovered the suicide.
Dealing with stigma
Many people have trouble discussing suicide, and might not reach out to you. This could leave you feeling isolated or abandoned if the support you expected to receive just isn’t there.
Additionally, some religions limit the rituals available to people who’ve died by suicide, which could also leave you feeling alone. You might also feel deprived of some of the usual tools you depended on in the past to help you cope.
Adopt healthy coping strategies
The aftermath of a loved one’s suicide can be physically and emotionally exhausting. As you work through your grief, be careful to protect your own well-being.
Keep in touch. Reach out to loved ones, friends and spiritual leaders for comfort, understanding and healing. Surround yourself with people who are willing to listen when you need to talk, as well as those who’ll simply offer a shoulder to lean on when you’d rather be silent.
Grieve in your own way. Do what’s right for you, not necessarily someone else. There is no single “right” way to grieve. If you find it too painful to visit your loved one’s gravesite or share the details of your loved one’s death, wait until you’re ready.
Be prepared for painful reminders. Anniversaries, holidays and other special occasions can be painful reminders of your loved one’s suicide. Don’t chide yourself for being sad or mournful. Instead, consider changing or suspending family traditions that are too painful to continue.
Don’t rush yourself. Losing someone to suicide is a tremendous blow, and healing must occur at its own pace. Don’t be hurried by anyone else’s expectations that it’s been “long enough.”
Expect setbacks. Some days will be better than others, even years after the suicide — and that’s OK. Healing doesn’t often happen in a straight line.
Consider a support group for families affected by suicide. Sharing your story with others who are experiencing the same type of grief might help you find a sense of purpose or strength. However, if you find going to these groups keeps you ruminating on your loved one’s death, seek out other methods of support.
Know when to seek professional help
If you experience intense or unrelenting anguish or physical problems, ask your doctor or mental health provider for help. Seeking professional help is especially important if you think you might be depressed or you have recurring thoughts of suicide. Unresolved grief can turn into complicated grief, where painful emotions are so long lasting and severe that you have trouble resuming your own life.
Depending on the circumstances, you might benefit from individual or family therapy — either to get you through the worst of the crisis or to help you adjust to life after suicide. Short-term medication can be helpful in some cases, too.
Face the future with a sense of peace
In the aftermath of a loved one’s suicide, you might feel like you can’t go on or that you’ll never enjoy life again.
In truth, you might always wonder why it happened — and reminders might trigger painful feelings even years later. Eventually, however, the raw intensity of your grief will fade. The tragedy of the suicide won’t dominate your days and nights.
Understanding the complicated legacy of suicide and how to cope with palpable grief can help you find peace and healing, while still honoring the memory of your loved one.
The classroom was escalating quickly. With one, swift kick, the desk that perfectly fit a 9-year-old body crashed over, papers and colored pencils strewn about the floor. For being a thin, slight boy, Gabriel had a lot of strength.
It was a scene that happened every month or so. The teacher and the kids knew what to do: Stand back and give Gabe space until he calmed down enough for the principal to walk him to the office. His parent would be called, and he would go home.
What is wrong with Gabe?
Gabe’s parent is at wit’s end. Home life has been hard the past few years, ever since Gabe’s older brother was killed in a hunting accident. The parents have managed to stay together, and with two other young children, plus Gabe’s growing special needs, the parent is at a loss as to how to help Gabe. The principal is equally as frustrated. These classroom episodes can’t continue because they jeopardize everyone’s safety and learning environment.
Is Gabe oppositional defiant? Does he have ADHD, a developmental disability, or a learning disorder? Perhaps a battery of special education testing or an IEP(individualized education plan) is needed. That thought only increases the anxiety within Gabe’s parent. How will a diagnosis like this impact Gabe throughout his lifetime?
Grieving children
There are millions of grieving children in the United States. With increases in school violence, mass casualty events, and accidents, those numbers are expected to rise. Grief and loss are hard to talk about, and parents and concerned adults often are at a loss for resources.
It’s easy to assume that children who experience a loss like death, or a trauma like a community disaster, are grieving children. Indeed, they are. What about kids like Gabe? Gabe’s brother died years ago … surely Gabe is over that by now. Or is he?
The No.1 mistake
Adults make a big mistake when it comes to grieving children: Assuming that children process their grief verbally.
Have you ever heard a child younger than 14 say, “I’m going through my anger stage,” or “I’ve accepted my loss?” I haven’t, unless they were parroting an adult. Children’s brains are usually not developed enough to process information — traumatic or otherwise — in language. They respond to stressors (e.g., loss and trauma) through their behavior and emotions.
Adults typically recognize the Five Stages of Grief theory developed in 1969 by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. This approach has been effective to heal grief. It requires the ability to process sophisticated emotions — shock, denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance — by talking about them. Children don’t yet have the brain capability to process their loss this way.
What works best with grieving children
Instead, we need to meet grieving children where they are at, using interventions that work for them. Gabe’s mother, school counselor, or teacher could try these strategies:
Address grief before considering any other diagnosis. This could be done through meeting with the school counselor, therapy outside of school, and/or parent-child interventions at home.
Don’t expect Gabe to verbalize feelings about his loss. Instead, expect a wide range of behavior — anything from behavioral acting out, high anxiety, perfectionism or withdrawal.
Be aware that high-intensity activity might trigger high-intensity emotions. Plan ahead, and have a “Plan B” (an alternate activity) ready if Gabe needs it.
Respond to the feeling behind misbehavior (loss) whenever possible.
Provide materials for Gabe to express feelings about his loss in non-verbal ways. Art supplies, toys, books and sensory objects (e.g., sand and bean trays) are great tools.
The older Gabe gets, the more capable he will be of working through his feelings through reason and language. In the meantime, it’s important that we adults don’t miss the fact that he is grieving. Let’s not call it a behavioral problem, or otherwise mislabel it, until he has been able to process his grief in the way his 9-year-old brain is able to.
With continual advances in modern medicine, we’re enjoying longer lives. As the population ages, and particularly as many people are living longer with cancers and chronic diseases, end-of-life care is adapting and changing.
People who are approaching the end of their lives will usually spend some or most of their time at home, requiring care and support to do so. Family members might not always be available to provide this care. When they are, the process can be rewarding, but it can also be challenging and complex, often leading to a severe emotional burden for the carer.
Gaps in our health and social care systems are starting to be filled by death doulas. But beyond providing practical support, families are increasingly seeking the services of death doulas to help navigate the experience of dying. Those nearing the end of their lives, too, may bring in a death doula to ensure they can die the way they want to.
We urgently need a conversation about death doulas and new models of care at the end of life. We are continuing to build an evidence base through research with the death doula community and via consultation with the health services that interface with death doulas.
Defining the death doula
We’ve seen a similar concept in midwifery, where birth doulas have long been providing social, emotional and practical support to help women through the process of childbirth. This has been shown to have positive outcomes for mothers and their babies.
Like birth doulas, death doulas’ roles and functions are non-medical; these can include advocating, supporting (spiritually and sometimes physically), guiding, and providing emotional support to the person and their family, mainly in the home.
We undertook a systematic review of the literature to find available evidence about the death doula role. We found little formal academic literature describing the role, their training, or contribution to individuals, families and the health system.
But what we do know is that each death doula enacts the role differently. They might spend time with the dying person, offering emotional and spiritual support, and sometimes providing physical care. They might support the family carers in the work they are doing. Some death doulas are only present in the last days of life, offering “vigiling” – sitting with the dying person so they are not alone.
Some doulas offer after-death rituals such as helping families prepare the body or keeping the deceased at home.
A death doula can provide additional support to family members acting as caregivers at the end of life.
Some death doulas are paid by families who engage their services. Families have often found their chosen doula online or through word-of-mouth. Other death doulas work voluntarily, in a similar way to a hospice volunteer. But, because there are no formal structures or registers, we don’t know how many death doulas there are.
In Australia and elsewhere, palliative care nurses, social workers and those from the funeral industry work as death doulas. This seems to be a natural progression, but it’s a grey area: doulas are providing care, but are not registered or supervised.
There is little formal assessment to guide patient and family choice or to inform end-of-life care provided by professionals.
How can doula care be formalised?
Providing care in homes can be informal. It may be provided by families, friends, or community groups. Care can also be formally negotiated and provided by health services, aged care providers or private agencies.
It’s necessary to understand the implications of the death doula role. For example, they could become part of formal care arrangements such as home care packages or via private health insurance funding.
We also need to look at how these new roles are authorised to represent the dying person, as they are neither a family member nor a qualified health professional. It’s also important that they are appropriately trained and insured (if providing paid services).
There are personal, social and cost advantages in enabling care in the home for a dying person. For families, being able to support the person in a familiar environment can be a powerful motivator to engage a death doula to fill the gaps in care provision.
For the health system, care in the home is seen as positive. It can avoid unnecessary hospital use and help spread the costs of caring.
For the dying person who may prefer to die at home, it is a way of achieving this. Importantly, death doulas can improve the dying person’s ability to control their own care.
The death doula role may well incorporate some of the direct care provided by families and help them to navigate the complex needs and planning required at the end of life. If so, death doulas could represent an important opportunity to improve dying outcomes.
We need to ensure our community is informed, health service provision crosses both hospitals and homes, and that those providing care – regardless of setting – have skills and knowledge appropriate to their role.
For more than a century, every deceased resident of Long Son Island has been buried in the same coffin.
The residents of Long Son Commune near the Vung Tau port city in southern Vietnam follow the Tran religious teachings set out by the island’s founder, Le Van Muu, early in the 20th century.
Muu was a resistance fighter against French colonialists in the 1800s, but the war forced him to flee his hometown in the Mekong Delta.
He and a small group of people migrated to an unpopulated Ba Trao Hamlet (now Long Son Commune). Muu settled there, built permanent homes, and formed a religious practice on the basis of maintaining human virtues.
His teachings focus on living harmoniously with nature and loving people. Besides that, there are not any rules and books that adherents have to strictly follow. They can get married and have children, but maintain a simple life close to nature.
Adherents wear the ao ba ba, a baggy shirt that is popular among peasants in southern Vietnam, tie their hair in buns, walk bare feet, and keep their head bare, too.
Muu’s followers inside the “Big House.”
Togetherness is a cornerstone of Muu’s philosophy. People in the community work and eat together. There is a lot of bonding, and in an unusual departure from mainstream traditions, this is carried on at death as well.
Muu believed that everyone was the same when they died, so he introduced the practice of sharing the same “Ba Quan” coffin when a person dies.
“Ba Quan” is a standard coffin that is placed in the Nha Lon (Big House) on the island.
Thanh Thi Thanh, a 75-year-old local resident, said that when a family member dies, relatives go to the Big House to ask to use the Ba Quan coffin.
The deceased’s body is washed clean, dressed in new clothes, shrouded in cloth and mats, and placed in the coffin.
At the cemetery, the body is taken out of the coffin and buried directly in the ground. “Ba Quan” is taken back to the Big House to be used by relatives of the next person to depart the world.
“The burial practice does not include the coffin so the corpse can quickly decay and attain liberation,” Thanh said. “This practice also helps family members save costs.”
She added that only those who are 12 years or older will be placed in the Ba Quan coffin when they die.
The dead are buried within 24 hours, instead of waiting for a set day or time. Family members will complete the mourning ceremony at the graveyard and do not invite guests over or perform any other ritual.
Those who visit the deceased will burn incense for the soul of the dead, and relatives will not receive any condolence money.
This tradition has been kept alive by locals for long.
Tran Ba Viet, head of the Culture and Information Department of Vung Tau City, said that the ceremony that Long Son residents have maintained for decades has many advantages since it is very short and expenses are minimized.
But since the coffin is not sealed for reuse, if the deceased had any serious, contagious illness, it could be contagious and affect the environment, Viet said.
He added that he will work with locals and authorities in the health sector to identify better funeral practices to protect the environment while respecting long-standing customs.
Death and grief are natural parts of the human experience, but mourning a loss is also an incredibly complex process.
When a young child loses a loved one, parents often grapple with the challenge of explaining the concept of death and helping their little one through the grieving process (all while grieving themselves).
To help inform these difficult conversations, HuffPost spoke to a number of child mental health experts. Of course, a family’s cultural and religious background may steer the discussion, but there are certain guiding principles that are helpful for everyone to keep in mind.
Here are some expert suggestions for parents and caregivers when they prepare to talk about death and grief with children.
Be Honest And Straightforward
“Tell them the ‘facts’ about the death,” clinical psychologist John Mayer told HuffPost. “Don’t sugarcoat what death is or use ‘baby talk’ with a child. Do not use phrases like, ‘Grammy is sleeping.’ This is an opportune time to teach them about death. Don’t shy away from it.”
Board certified licensed professional counselor Tammy Lewis Wilborn echoed this sentiment, noting that using “cutesy language” and euphemisms in an attempt to protect kids from the realities of death and loss can actually do more harm than good.
“Children tend to think concretely, not abstractly, so when you use language that’s euphemistic, it can actually be more confusing or frustrating,” she explained. When people say things like “Dad is in the clouds” or “Your dad is taking a really long nap,” a young child may not understand the permanence of the fact that their father died and might even look for him in the clouds or expect him to wake up at some point.
Words like “death,” “died” or “dying” may sound harsh, but this is still developmentally appropriate language, Wilborn noted, and it’s important for children to have the language to understand the permanence of death.
Ask And Answer Questions
The kind of conversation a parent has with a child following the death of a loved one depends on the child’s relationship with the person who died. It should also vary based on the child’s developmental age and their understanding of what happens when someone dies. To that end, it’s useful to ask kids questions or offer to answer any questions they might have.
“Starting with questions can be a way in,” said Wilborn. “And you don’t necessarily need to give the specific details of how the person died, particularly if we’re dealing with traumatic grief. They don’t need all of the information, but they need enough age-appropriate details to understand that a person has died and isn’t coming back.”
Sometimes children may have witnessed something related to the loved one’s death, like being present at the scene of an accident or visiting the person in the hospital. In these cases, they need help understanding what they saw, said Chandra Ghosh Ippen, an expert in early childhood trauma and the associate director of the Child Trauma Research Program at the University of California, San Francisco.
Parents should try to shrink themselves down to the size of their child and walk through what they’ve experienced. Seeing someone in a hospital with tubes coming out of them or watching paramedics perform lifesaving procedures may be frightening for a small child, so it’s necessary for adults to appreciate how scary things might look to them.
“Create space for them to share how it might’ve affected them, and try to help them understand that doctors and paramedics were trying to help their loved one,” Ghosh Ippen explained.
It’s an ongoing conversation. “Young children will often come back to you after your very excellent explanation of death and still ask, ‘Am I going to see so-and-so?’” Ghosh Ippen said. “It’s not that they didn’t understand you, but little kids tend to repeat their questions. It’s sort of their way of mulling it over and making meaning. This can be painful for caregivers, but appreciate that the child did hear you and is just having a difficult time wrapping their head around the concept of death.”
Know That Their Emotions Are Complicated
“Grief is a complex process, so it comes with a range of thoughts, emotions and behaviors,” Wilborn explained. While parents may expect their child to feel sad, angry, confused or even guilty about a loss, there are other behavioral changes that can be harder to understand, like changes in sleeping and eating patterns or school performance issues.
Sometimes parents may feel confused about a perceived lack of sadness in their kids. “Young children have a short sadness span,” said Ghosh Ippen. “A child can suffer a devastating loss and feel really sad, and then they can go play. You may be thinking, ‘Were they really affected by what happened?’”
While adults tend to immobilize and sink into sadness, kids often discharge it by running around or trying to do something else. “They kind of go in and out of sadness, and that can put us at odds with them if we’re thinking, ‘Oh, my God, do they not care?’” she continued. “But recognize that they did care.”
Be Patient
Wilborn noted that grief is a long process, so parents should reject the tendency to want to rush past it and wonder when their kids are going to be over it.
“Grief is a process that you cannot go around. You have to go through it. So you need to be OK with the pace of the process,” she said. “It can take some time for a child to return to his or her normal.”
Mayer emphasized the power of this experience and of talking to kids about death as a way to build major developmental coping skills. “This is a positive and helps them cope with loss in their life in the future and even transitions in their life, such as leaving one school to another, advancing to high school or college, and losing relationships.”
Encourage Expression
“Children need to see that their parents are a resource; home is a resource where grief is welcome,” Wilborn said, noting that parents should encourage age-appropriate expressions of grief.
“For example with a school-aged, play is their language, so you want to lean into ways that children play to promote communication ― things like drawing pictures, playing games, dolls, puppet shows at home,” she added. “With older kids, you might encourage them to journal, draw, write songs, create poems.”
Mayer noted that being a resource for your child creates a sense of safety and security that will serve them in later life events. “They know they can depend on you, and it is wonderful modeling for them.”
Create Rituals
Creating rituals around remembering and honoring a loved one who died is another significant form of expression. “Explain that this person may not be here with us, but we can still remember him or her and celebrate their life as a family,” said Wilborn.
“When the death is really traumatic, sometimes caregivers stop talking about the person who died,” Ghosh Ippen explained. “And what’s hard in those cases is that children lose their ‘angel memories’ ― times when they really felt loved and cared for with that person. It’s normal for grown-ups in mourning to find it hard to talk about the person who died, but it’s important to memorialize them.”
The death of a loved one offers an opportunity to talk to your child about your cultural and religious beliefs.
Many cultures and religions promote rituals around saying goodbye and making meaning of death. Mayer noted that losing a loved one presents an opportunity for parents who have religious belief systems to explain these tenets to their children.
“Religious or not, it is also very helpful to teach your children that all the experiences and memories you have had with this loved one do not get erased with their death. People always live in our hearts and our minds forever, and no one or nothing can take that away,” he explained. “Say something like, ‘Where’s Aunt Susie right now? She’s not in this room with us right now, correct? That doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist.’ Aunt Susie is here (point to your head) and here (point to your heart). We have to keep our memories and good times with Aunt Susie alive.”
Make Sure They Know It’s Not Their Fault
“Sometimes children have this really uncanny way of assigning blame to themselves for things that have nothing to do with them,” said Wilborn.
With that in mind, caregivers need to help kids understand that the death is in no way their fault, and it’s not their responsibility to put on a strong face or hide their feelings.
Use Books And Other Resources
There are many great resources for parents navigating this difficult topic with their children. Ghosh Ippen and Wilborn both recommend Sesame Street’s online grief toolkit, which provides talking points, videos, activities, storybooks and more. Ghosh Ippen and Wilborn also pointed to the National Child Traumatic Stress Network as another great source of online resources.
There are many children’s books that cover the experience of loss.
Beyond books and online resources, Wilborn emphasized the value of community resources, such as school counseling, support groups, play therapy and peer counseling.
Let Them See You Grieve
The way a child’s parents or caregivers respond to a loss is instrumental in helping them cope. “They need to see you grieve,” said Wilborn. “But they also need to see you taking care of yourself and engaging in self-care, which may or may not include professional help. If you don’t, they may feel like they have to take care of you because you’re not managing grief in a way that’s healthy.”
It’s OK to cry in front of your children and show the value of expressing emotions and having shared emotions among family members. It’s OK to say things like “I’m feeling really sad because my dad died” or “Daddy is sad because he misses his mom.”
“Within our culture, we often have a sense that we have to be tough, so many parents are trying to help their kids by putting on a brave or overly cheery face,” said Ghosh Ippen. “But that can seem really odd and confusing. The child is feeling sad because it’s devastating that this person is gone, but then the parent is cheery ― which can feel eerie and weird.”
Ultimately, it’s about conveying the idea that “Mom is sad, and Mom is also strong,” she continued. If the feelings of grief become overwhelming, parents should seek help from other sources because it’s not their child’s role to help them.
“It’s important for little kids to believe that grown-ups are bigger, wiser and stronger,” said Ghosh Ippen. “We are not going to fall apart, and if we are going to fall apart, other grown-ups are going to help us.”
