Inviting Kids to Contemplate Death
Its been two years, since my fathers death, and my kids are again met by deaths touch. Their sweet great grandfather Lou has been on hospice, dying from the same diagnosis as my father, stage four lung cancer. This process is not new to them, and as I prepared them for what they were going to see when they walked into the room where grandpa Lou was resting, they reminded me of that. Oliver walked into the room with ease, looked at his great grandfather, and beaming with curiosity he said, “Are you afraid to die?” Lou responded with a smile saying, “No I am not afraid. I am ready!” Oliver then said, “What does it feel like to die?” “I don’t know yet,” replied Grandpa Lou. Sawyer, my seven year old daughter, suddenly piped in, “Well, what if you don’t die? What if you get better?” Grandpa Lou responded, “I will die, everyone dies.” Sawyer asked, “Does it hurt?” Grandpa Lou responded, “Not right now.” The kids looked at each other and said, “Ok!” And just like that they ran out of the room saying “Love you grandpa Lou!” The were ready to go play outside. I looked at grandpa Lou laughing and he said, “Terrific.” He loved the questions, and met them with such gentleness and honesty.
I couldn’t help but feel the echoes of my dads presence all around me as I watched the kids with Lou. Two years prior, I was with my dad, watching my kids experience the beauty, the tensions, the love, and the exhaustion that often comes with the end of life. I thought of one moment in particular when my dad was nearing the end of his physical life and he looked a lot different than we had known him to look. As a result of his cancer, he lost a lot of weight, his skin color had a yellowish hue, and he had lost most of his hair. His body seemed frail and weak, and he could no longer walk. The kids journeyed through the process with us from the get go so they were exposed to the many bodily changes that cancer treatment can induce, but on this day my son Oliver, who was three at the time, looked up at grandpa and then looked at me and said, “He looks scary.” Olivers body language that had usually run towards his grandpa, turned away in fear. My dad heard the comment, and I could sense his pain in hearing those words. Everything within me wanted to shield my dad from the pain, and dismiss Olivers opinion by saying something like, “Grandpa is not scary!” but I felt denying Olivers reality wouldn’t help him or my dad. The words had been shared. I looked at my dad, and then looked at my three year old son and replied, “Yes, grandpa does look different doesn’t he? His body has been through a lot.” I could tell that Oliver wanted to leave so I told him he could go play. It was a horrible feeling. My dad was sad, and there was nothing I could do to change it.
A hour or so had passed and Oliver started to peek into the room where my dad was. He took his time to allow my dads new appearance to become a little more normal to him. My dad looked at Oliver and jokingly agreed with him, saying something like, “I do look scary don’t I…” Eventually I could see Olivers body language shift. I shared with him a little about why grandpa looked different, and soon he was comfortable again, realizing that this was the same grandpa he had laughed and played with, the same grandpa he adored. What he needed in that moment was not to put on a brave face and mask his feelings, he needed to name what he was afraid of, ask questions about it, and have the space to feel what he was feeling, without us taking it personally.
As I look back on the process I can see how when I tried to change or manipulate the moments of discomfort and confusion I only made things worse. I could only invite them to try and think about how certain comments may effect grandpa, but when I tried to make them act a certain way around himI saw how this pushed them away from him, not towards him. I had to let go of control, allow them to feel what they felt which included both compassion and confusion. My dad handled them with such grace. He could sense their minds at times contemplating the situation, and would often make jokes about what was happening to show them it was still silly grandpa. His go to joke at the end of his life was to excuse any mistake he made by pointing to his head and saying “brain tumor,” giving us a big smile and smirk. His ability to laugh at himself gave the kids, and all of us, permission to laugh at the shock of it all. Like at one point Sawyer asked my dad if my mom was going to find a new husband to replace him after he died! My mom and dad had already had many conversations about how he hoped she would find love again, so it wasn’t a new topic, but when coming out of a 5 year olds mouth so bluntly, we couldn’t help but feel a little shocked, and place our palms to our foreheads and laugh, and honestly cry at the same time. Kids can speak with an honesty that many adults can have a hard time naming.
As I look back, and think about my dads journey, I am reminded of how big of a role the kids played. They went on walks with him when he had strength, they brought him his wheelchair when he could no longer walk, they helped bring him some of his meds (with close supervision), they brought him water, they cut off his medical bracelets, they gave him many many massages (although you could barley classify them as massages haha), they played games with him, wrote him notes, they loved sitting on his electric hospice bed and moving it up and down like a ride, and they consistently gave him what they called “magic love” hugs. The journey was jam packed with precious moments that bring tears to my eyes- but its not only those moments that were a gift to them. It was also the uncomfortable, painful, confusing, and exhausting moments that taught them, and myself, so much as well.
They may not have been able to mentally understand a lot of what was going on, but there were moments where their intuition kicked in and would meet their grandpa with such love, joy, and authenticity, which was often what he needed. I hope in the end he knew what a gift it was for them to be with him throughout the process. They got to experience the tenderness of how death can bring people together. They got to experience confusion around the topic of death and have a safe space to process, at least most of the time. They got to feel the exhaustion of the process, and with that, the need to laugh at it sometimes. They got to experience their first of many deaths, surrounded by those who love them, and they got to experience the power of love, that even in the face of death, cannot die.
Two years later and my dads presence continue to echo as their great grandpa who was on hospice has peacefully died. I brought the kids over to say their goodbyes, shared a little with them about what they would see, and asked them if they wanted to see great grandpas body. They said a big yes, and quite literally ran into the room. The moment they stepped in the room, the questions burst out. “Why is his skin cold?,” “Can he hear us?,” “Can he feel if we touch him?,” “If he is not in his body, where is he?,” “Is he a ghost now?” We just stood there and talked. I answered some of their questions, and answered many of the afterlife questions with “I don’t know.”
Their cousins arrived, so all 5 of Grandpa Lou’s great grandkids were there, and they each took a rose and placed them on his chest. Two of the cousins were feeling sad, so one of them left the room and didn’t want to go back in, and another just needed some time. Eventually when all of us adults were talking we saw him sneaking back in the room to check things out. Haha Each kid had permission to participate as they saw fit, and was given space to set their own boundaries.
It was time to for me to wash the body, (I was great grandpa Lou’s Death Doula) and four of the kids asked me if they could participate. I had them go into the garden and pick flowers to put into a water basin, and they then all worked together to wash and dry his hands and feet. My daughter then asked to read a blessing that I had printed, and was laying on his bed. I watched as my three year old niece was dancing around the room wildly, my son and his cousin were washing his great grandfathers hands (spilling the flower water everywhere haha), and my daughter slowly read a blessing over him. Great grandpa Lou’s legacy surrounded him, and honored him in their own ways. Even my nephew who sat in the other room and gave himself space to just be sad honored grandpa Lou, by listening to himself and participating as he saw fit.
I know not all deaths look like this, and not everyone has the opportunity to walk with their loved ones through death, and honor their dead in intimate ways. Quite frankly, not everyone wants to honor the dead! Death is complex, and much of death is out of our control. Every death looks different, and every persons experiences should be honored. I share these stories because they mean something to me. I share these stories because in our “death denying” American culture, we often want to shield our kids from death, because we were never invited into having compassionate conversations or experiences around death ourselves. It can be difficult to navigate appropriate ways to invite our kids into spaces where the immediacy of death is present, because we often don’t know how to be present to it. I share these stories because often in our desires to “protect” our kids from death, we end up shielding them from deaths sacred beauty as well. I share these stories as an invitation to think about how your views of death are shaping your children views of death. I share these stories as a way to honor grandpa Lou and the gift he has been to his family by allowing us to walk alongside him these past few weeks. Lastly I share these stories to honor my dad, who by inviting my kids into his death journey, gave them a precious gift.
Key Thoughts
1: Take some time to process what your beliefs around death are.
When death meets you in your life, how do you respond? What are your kids learning about death through you, not only through what you say, but how you act. Is death a taboo topic? Is it scary? Is it dark? Is it a natural part of life? Is it idolized? Is it non- existent? Recognizing what we believe about death as parents, helps us become more aware of what we are teaching our kids about death.
2: Invite the kids in your life into the conversation.
If the topic of death arises, or your kids have experienced a death, don’t assume you know how they are feeling. You can ask them what they think about death, and what feelings arise around the topic of death. They also may have questions but feel nervous about asking them, so letting them know you are there to answer questions they have can help remind them its ok to talk about. If they do have something to say, listen without trying to change how they feel, or what they think. Stay curious, and let them know they can ask anything they would like, but you may not always have answers for them. If they don’t have anything to say, let them know you are there, and give them the space to process.
3: Use clear language when you speak about death.
If someone is dying it’s important to use clear wording. Using the word dying and avoiding words like “passing” helps them understand. The same goes for when someone is dying, when they have died, it’s so important to use the word dead, instead of phrases like, “moved on.”
In one case study my peers and I read, a child’s mother had died, and a couple months later the child looked to a family member and asked, “So when is mommy moving back?” Everyone was shocked, and soon realized it’s because they never used the words “dead” in an effort to protect the child, they had simply said she “moved on.” Using clear language to help kids understand is very important.
4: Listening to our kids boundaries and needs.
Everyone has different capacities and comfort zones. When we introduce kids into conversations or experiences surrounding death it’s important that we are sensitive to their limits. Inviting them into an experience, instead of telling them they have to do something, gives them the power to accept or decline. The choice to say no should be received with understanding, and curiosity, not manipulation. No means no.
On the other hand, some kids feel a strong pull towards an act of closure, that it’s important we listen to. One of my teachers shared with us a heartbreaking and beautiful story about a five year old whose six year old friend died. He begged his mom to see his friend, and the mom of the child who died gave her blessing. The child went to the morgue to see his friend, and as he walked into the room where his friends body was he ran to him, hugged him, and wept. The mother of the boy visiting stood in the corner and watched as her son then started to talk to his friend about all the things they loved. He would walk around and look at the face, hands, and feet, and even try to listen for a heartbeat, as to make sure his friend was really dead. The mom finally said, “Are you ready to go sweetie?” and as clear as day her son looked at her and responded, “I will tell you when I am ready.” What a powerful statement, and what a wonderful mother, who didn’t disregard her sons desire to see his friend, but honored his wishes. The boy and his mom eventually left, when he was ready, telling his mom he just needed to say goodbye. She ended up learning a lot from her sons ability to state what he needed in the face of death. What a beautiful opportunity we have as parents/ guardians to listen to our kids, and maybe in listening to them, we may even learn more about how to listen to ourselves.
5: Offer tangible ways for them to be involved when death is present
Ways kids can be involved as someone is dying
Start by asking the patient if they would like the following:
Reading to them
Drawing pictures for them
Singing songs
Asking about stories (Many ppl on hospice so want their stories to be heard)
Companionship (kids simply watching a show with them, or playing a game nearby, or even just doing their HW in the room)
Encouraging notes
Magic Love Hugs (as my son called them)
Helping with meal prep
Bringing the loved one a plant, and having the kid return to care for it
Sharing music with the loved one
Rubbing Lotion on the patients hands
Brushing their hair
Ways for the kids to be involved after death:
Blessing the persons body (Giving thanks for the eyes, the hands, the legs, the feet, etc.)
Helping with washing the hands and feet and allowing them to place leaves/ flowers in the water
Having the kids paint the nails
Using anointing oil to anoint the body
Having them pick out the clothes for the loved one to wear post mortem
Lighting a candle for them after death (be very careful if the person was on Oxygen, make sure the machine is turned off)
Saying a prayer that honors the dead’s spiritual home
Writing a poem to be read at the celebration
Reading a favorite quote of the loved ones