I'm writing this on the first anniversary of my father's passing and five months after my father-in-law's death. This post shares our family's experience with losing my father, father-in-law, and mother (who passed six years ago), focusing on how our children (ages 10 and 14) have navigated these losses—and why open conversations about death are essential.
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In the past year, our children faced illness, stress, and the heartbreaking losses of both grandfathers—on top of missing their grandmother for six years. At ages 10 and 14, memories of her funeral have faded, but these recent events tested us deeply. Yet, as a family, we've emerged stronger. Reflecting on this, I credit our home's culture of openness: candid talks about death, grief, and cherished memories.
Many resources exist to support grieving children—specialty toys like Lego grief sets, comfort objects, or books like Sweet Grandma Pluis. We didn't rely on them. Instead, we talked openly, cried together and alone, and normalized emotions. I never hid my tears, whether triggered by music linked to my parents or father-in-law. Our kids see it's okay to feel and express sadness.
We even wept as a family of four watching The Passion on TV, as a song from my father-in-law's cremation played. Sharing vulnerability builds resilience.
The key is honest communication. Explain what's happening—your emotions, death itself. Our kids know certain songs make me cry; we even joke about it lightly ("Don't play that one, or Mom will cry again!"), turning heavy topics approachable.
They noticed I grieved my father less intensely than my mother. Through casual talks, my son asked why. I explained my relief that Dad was reunited with Mom, ending his long sorrow. Open dialogue invites such questions and fosters understanding.
We fully included our kids in goodbyes and funerals—not forcing them, but honoring their wishes. Before viewings, we prepared them: a body feels cold, facial muscles relax (sometimes lips are closed to prevent the mouth opening). Yet, we emphasized positives: touching a loved one, family chats, reminiscing, lighting candles, or placing flowers. Death is part of life.
This might sound stark, but kids have questions. Honest answers help them accept loss. Life goes on—work, meals, school continue.
We discussed funeral costs too: insurance options or out-of-pocket expenses (€7,000–€10,000). Shocked, they sparked creative questions: "Must it be a coffin, or can it be a simple box for burial or cremation?" Absolutely—options abound. I shared seeing family hammer a relative's coffin together, a meaningful ritual.
Every child grieves uniquely, just as adults do. Excluding them from death and funerals robs processing opportunities. True healing starts with space for talk, emotions, and authenticity.
Recent advice from columnist Beatrijs opposes involving young children (even 4–6-year-olds) in funerals, calling them a "burden." I strongly disagree—it's vital life learning. We can't imagine shielding ours.
What would you do?
