According to Russell Friedman, co-author of When Children Grieve, children may not feel safe enough to express their own feelings about the death of a loved one if their parents bottle up their own feelings, put up a brave front, or simply wait for a child to initiate the discussion about the death of a loved one. “Parents need to go first,” he stresses. club penguin

This list of books really helped me when I lost my dad. I especially liked The tenth good thing about Barney.... http://www.best-childrens-books.com/childrens-books-about-death.html Thank you for sharing Catherine's story and introducing me to her blog. I will be visiting everyday!

I've been wondering about this very topic. My own father died before my children were born. They are now 4 and 2 but for some reason, the topic has never come up. I keep waiting for the day when it will but I have no idea what I'll say.

From one of our experts....a fellow Canadian, author Ann Douglas. It’s one of the most difficult conversations you’ll ever have with your kids—but also one of the most most important. Here’s how to get the dialogue started when the time comes to talk to your kids about death. Convey the facts about the death of a loved one as truthfully as possible. While parents sometimes try to sugarcoat the truth in the hope of sparing their children pain, there’s a solid body of evidence to show that children find it easier to cope with the death of a loved one if they are given the facts up-front. If you don’t have all the facts right away, admit that to your child and then follow through on your promise to pass along more information as it becomes available. Share your own feelings first. According to Russell Friedman, co-author of When Children Grieve, children may not feel safe enough to express their own feelings about the death of a loved one if their parents bottle up their own feelings, put up a brave front, or simply wait for a child to initiate the discussion about the death of a loved one. “Parents need to go first,” he stresses. Understand that a death in the family may temporarily heighten your child’s fears. Some children become very possessive or protective of their parents after the death of a loved one. Other children take the opposite approach, withdrawing from those they care about most because they’re afraid of losing someone else that they love. Be prepared for some blunt—even disturbing—questions. Your child isn’t being morbid when he asks if dead people can come back to life. He’s simply trying to understand what death really means. Your best bet is to answer as truthfully as you can, but to try to add a few words of gentle reassurance: “Grandma can’t come back to life, but she will be a part of our lives forever because we will always love and remember her.” Educate yourself about the grieving process. You’ll feel better equipped to support your children through the grieving process if you have some sense of what to expect. Many community organizations offer workshops on grief and bereavement. You can also find a grief resources in bookstores and online.

Catherine, I've been following you lately with greater interest because my Dad died very suddenly last winter. He was only 62, I was 37 and my daughter was 4. Thankfully (?) his cat died the winter before and we were able to have a dry run on the whole death concept. To the extent that when we told her that Grandpa had died, she said "Oh Mama, he's SO HAPPY because now he's with Buddy!" Basically we told her that when we die, our bodies stay here, but our spirits go up to heaven. We don't know what heaven is like, because we don't remember from when we were spirits before the angels brought us to our Mommies tummies. Our spirits don't really look like us, they're more like energy, and yes Buddy was waiting for Grandpa, so were his parents and his brothers. (I'm sure the dinosaurs are there too, but they're gentle because you don't need to eat in heaven, maybe they have their own section, like a zoo, that you can go visit.) Here's the tricky part, yes, we will see Grandpa again, when we die. But that won't be for a LONG LONG time. How long? Well, when she has babies, she'll be a Mama, and I will be a Grandma, and when her babies have babies, she will be a Grandma, and then, maybe, when I'm a Great Grandma, I will die. She obsessed about that, and her own death for a while, because time is SUCH a hard concept for them. But once I explained it in terms of generations, she understood. Also, she was consoled when I told her that when I die Grandpa will be waiting for me, and when she dies, I will be waiting for her. I very wisely didn't mention Grandma in all this. I also told her that we can talk to Grandpa, but we can't hear him. And that he's watching over us and he would be so proud of her. My Dad's hobby was metal-detecting, so whenever we find a coin on the ground, we always say that it was a message from Grandpa. We told her that Grandpa's heart stopped working, and we need our hearts and lungs and everything inside to WORK, or else we will die. Buddy's body stopped working too, because he was very, very sick, not just a silly old cold, but VERY, VERY SERIOUSLY sick. I really tried to avoid saying anything about being "like sleep" or that the cat was "put to sleep" because I didn't want her to be afraid of sleeping. Same with the word "sick". I don't want her to think you get sick and DIE, because of the holy-h-ell freak out we would have the next time she got sick. I answer her questions truthfully, usually with "I don't know, no one knows" or "some people believe...." but I often follow it up with "what do you think?" and then we have a discussion about what WE think heaven must be like. Honestly though, it doesn't matter what you believe, as long as you are consoled. Because there is no way of knowing for sure. I think that the REALITY of it is something that our puny little human brains can't even begin to understand. I'm thinking of putting a little memorial in the paper next month for my Dad's birthday and the most consoling message I've seen is "What the caterpillar perceives as the end, to the butterfly is just the beginning". Your Dad's spirit is a beautiful butterfly somewhere Catherine - don't doubt it.

Lynn was 7 when her beloved Uncle Flash (great-uncle who was 72) died and 8 when my mother died. She didn't ask very many questions about either event. She was 12 when her paternal grandfather, who had Parkinson's and had been in a nursing home for two years, died. I told her about it when she got up the morning after we got the midnight call. She went about her morning routine, and then came into my study. "Mommy, when people die and go to heaven, are they cured of all their sicknesses?" "Yes," I said. "Grandpa is perfect now." I said that because 6:45 am when we have to be out the door at 7:00 is not the time to say, "Well, Lynn, theologians differ on that. Some say . . . " I also said it because I believed it, at least metaphorically. The answer satisfied her, at least when it needed to. I am a firm believer in honesty, in admitting to children that you don;t know an answer, and in encouraging critical thinking. In 2008 I wrote a blog post (http://www.silkentent.com/Trees/?p=289) about a Newsweek columnist whose answers to her child's questions about death were, in my opinion, harmless and not inaccurate, but not particularly well thbought-out. You have to know what you believe and are prepared to stand behind before you take on the awesome task of training up a child in the way he should go.