Children - the Forgotten Mourners

Three months after the funeral, Ashley still hadn’t moved her husband’s boots from the back door. As she stood gazing out the kitchen window, she listened to the coffee maker brewing, grateful that the low rumble replaced the nauseating beeps and tension that filled the air in the emergency room that night. She drew in a deep breath as the events replayed in her mind...

Suddenly she sensed someone behind her. Turning to look, her son, Caleb was gathering ingredients to make his school lunch. “I’ll make Emma’s lunch too, mom. “He said. “You forgot yesterday.” Ashley stiffened. He hadn’t cried much lately. He didn’t talk about his dad. He just moved through the house like a tiny adult, checking the locks at night and reminding her about bills. Someone had told him at the funeral, that he was the “man of the house now.”

Ashley felt grateful for his stability and then ashamed that she relied on him. Emma, her daughter, was the opposite. Her stomach hurt almost every day. She’d started wetting the bed again and refused to sleep alone. She panicked if Ashley was late picking her up. Melissa’s heart ached remembering Emma’s question through her tears:

“You’re not going to die too, right?”

At school, Caleb lashed out at his teacher when she gave the class an assignment about their fathers. His teacher later showed Ashley the picture he had drawn of his dad driving a car. At the bottom he had written, “It is my fault.” Emma played “funeral” with her dolls, making them die and come back so she could change the ending. The house felt disorganized and loud, permission slips were lost, the laundry that her husband used to do piled up. Caleb tried to be strong. Emma fell apart. Both seemed lonely in different ways.

Ashley felt herself drowning in an emotional soup of confusion, exhaustion, anger, shame and longing. Some days she wanted to shut it all down and make it go away. Other days she feared that if the grief faded, the only connection that remained to her husband would disappear too. Then quietly the familiar words washed over her soul:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in Spirit” Psalms 34:18

Caleb’s silence wasn’t strength. It was protection. Emma’s stomachaches weren’t drama. They were fear. The anger, the regression, the guilt, the panic, the “big man” bravery, the explosive tears, even the moments of relief were all grief. Different from hers. But grief all the same. Your child’s grief is not the same as yours. Perhaps, by recognizing it, you can better anticipate its difficulties.

Ashley's story may be fictional, but it reflects common themes in families experiencing deep loss, such as isolation and anger. Through mourning, children learn how to accept loss and move forward with it. Soulshare's desire is to help families become acquainted with tools that help children move through the difficult process of mourning. In providing this space, parents can mutually benefit from others who are also experiencing similar losses.