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http:// --> Ashland, Oregon HOME Valley & State Sports Nation & World Opinion/Editorial Classifieds Business Columnists Local Issues Obituaries Weather Archive Revels Etcetera Backpage Hot Topics Most Viewed Forum Photo Galleries Video Readers Polls O-Zone Online Games Movie Preview Special Sections Real Estate Guide Menu Guide Shakespeare Subscribe Contact Us Rate Card Place an Ad Top Galleries: January 15, 2007 Talking to your children about death By Jennifer Margulis Tidings Correspondent Jennifer Margulis Archives Monday November 27th Monday December 4th Monday December 11th Monday December 18th Tuesday December 26th Monday January 8th Monday January 15th Monday January 22nd "Everything's OK here," our friend Nik wrote in an email, "except that Lynnette passed away on Tuesday." I gasped so loudly people in the cyber café turned to look. Lynnette was my daughter Hesperus's first grade teacher. Her enthusiasm and gentle discipline made teaching squirmy first and second graders look effortless. Back straight, stylishly dressed every day, Lynnette hit it off immediately with my fashion-minded child. One of Hesperus's main criteria for liking people was how huggable they were. Lynnette, it turned out, was very huggable. "I didn't get to say goodbye," Hesperus whispered when I told her, giving words to exactly how I felt. We knew that Lynnette was having health problems, she had had to miss a few days of school in the Spring to go to the doctor, but we had no idea that she was close to death. She seemed so strong and healthy and energetic and beautiful. She was only 59. How could she really have died? Hesperus's reaction was much calmer than I expected. When she was four she saw a picture of a wooly mammoth skeleton. After James explained that mammoths were extinct, she cried for over an hour. I was sure when I told her Lynnette was dead, she would sob and wail like she had over the mammoth. But children's grief is anything but predictable. I read in a book that children tend to grieve in waves. They can be sad one minute and go play the next. It doesn't mean they're callous, it just means that their grief process is different from ours. The same book suggested that parents talk to their children about death, and that trying to hide sad things just confuses children, and doesn't help them in the long term. "I don't ever want you to die Mommy," 5-year-old Athena says, putting her arms around my neck and hugging me as hard as she can. "I don't either," I say. I think of how Lynnette's daughters were with her, holding her hand and playing music for her, as she passed away at home. "But one day I will die. I hope it will be a long time from now but I can't be sure." "I hope I die before you!" Athena decides. The possibility that this little girl before me, with her sparkling gray eyes and joyful smile, might die before I do is unthinkable. "If I die how would you feel?" I ask. "Sad," Athena says holding me even more tightly. "I think you might feel angry too." "Why?" "You might be really angry at me because I died." "Kiss Reddy-Softy-Darky!" she says, holding up her stuffy. Athena's not interested in talking about death anymore. I'm relieved the conversation's over. Strangely enough, it's my 3-year-old son who wants to talk about death the most. "I'm sad for that people," he sighs. He asks us why Lynnette got cancer, how the cancer killed her, where she was when she died, where she is now. He also wants to hear the story about Great Grandpa John dying during open-heart surgery. But mostly he wants to know about my great aunt, who is 94 years old and moribund. He wants to know why she isn't eating anymore, why they are putting medicine in her arm. "Go into the couch room and sit," he says while he's on the potty. "Talk about it there, not here." He takes me by the hand and leads me into the living room. "They're having a celebration of life ceremony for Lynnette on Saturday," I say at dinner. "Can we go, Mommy? Please!" Hesperus says. "We won't be able to get there on time, honey. We're too far away." A few days later Hesperus is furious. "You wouldn't let us go to Lynnette's party and now you won't let us go see Aunt Tillie!" she shouts, crossing her hands in front of her chest and turning her back. "I don't want them to die either," I say. "I'm so sorry too." I try to hug her but she pulls away. Then she crowds into my arms. We'll both miss Lynnette for a long time. Jennifer Margulis and her family are spending one year in Niger, West Africa. The mother of three, she is the editor/author of three books, including "Why Babies Do That: Baffling Baby Behavior Explained."\ Current Comments: Beautiful article. I've found that art therapy really helps children process grief. My children's cat died last year and an elderly neighbor just this weekend. Both times my little ones took to the crayons. They also did a lot of talking, but making pictures seemed to help the most. Michelle O'Neil - Lynchburg, VA - January 22nd, 7:34 AM Leave a Comment: Advertisement: Advertisement: Paid Advertising: Debt Help Inkjet Printers Student Loans Water Filter Helzberg Diamonds Mortgage Calculator Security Systems Debt Relief Advertisement: Copyright © 2007 Ashland Daily Tidings and Ottaway Newspapers. All Rights Reserved. Del.icio.us