Death and your anxious child: the connection

The thought of death – of someone dying, of someone in the family dying, a friend dying, even a pet dying – is so scary that as a society we’ve buried it.

I want this page to equip us to dare to unearth the anxiety that such secrecy and denial brings to us all. And to see a way forward so our children don't have to be anxious.

We all talk about death afterwards. After seeing it on TV, hearing about it from friends, or experiencing it among our own families. Of course, we do: the world is full of death and dying.

The world is filled, too, with anxious people – fearful that death will pop in for a visit if we so much as take a peek at our mortality.

So before death happens, we pretend we’re infinite.

We stretch our existence into a future so far away that reaching the end seems more unlikely than trekking all 4,000 miles of the Great Wall of China. We won’t get there. It won’t happen. Forget it.

How are our children to cope with death if we can’t?

Denial helps no one – so is this a book we should read?

A couple of years ago I read an astonishing book. As a therapist, I’ve been used to discussing death and illness openly and sensitively, both with children and their parents. But to come across a book that did the same was a joy.

And it’s one I can recommend to you wholeheartedly. I’d love you to buy and read it as a background to working out how to talk with children naturally about death during all the years they’re in our care. (Note: I get no benefit if you buy it.)

With the End in Mind, subtitled “How to live and die well”, is written by Kathryn Mannix and published by William Collins.

Kathryn Mannix tells the stories of the people she worked with over many years: “I’m offering the reader my eyes and ears, my seat at the bedside, my place in the conversations, and my perspective on events.”

She says it’s time to talk about dying.

The rights of book review allow me to tell you a little bit more about it here...

One story near the end of the book tells of Pete and his wife, Lucy. They have two young sons.

His wife tearfully tells someone that Pete acts as if he doesn’t know how sick he is. “I don’t know what to tell the boys.”

Pete, in hospital now the cancer has spread, is having nightmares. A nurse helps him look at his nightmares differently, knowing they may spring from underlying anxiety.

He suddenly says: “I have to help her. We need to tell the kids. We need to do it together.”

After the family discussion that follows, they ask their sons what worries they have.

“The younger boy, now eight, says, ‘I think about what will happen if you never come home.’ The older son, ten, says, You’re not going to get better this time, are you, Dad?’”

The key thing to note here is that everyone was pretending, and that the boys had been “locked in a lonely place where pretending everything would be fine was the only acceptable behaviour” – yet they already suspected the truth.

What’s the problem with children and understanding death?

The problem is remembering what stage of development they’re at so you don’t cause more anxiety than you relieve.

Babies will clearly not understand death, but they will pick up on your grief. And if their main carer has died, they will notice their absence and become anxious and fretful.

Under the age of five, your child will be unable to understand that death is irreversible. They'll be puzzled their aged cat doesn’t magically come back to life – and then anxious because their future has just become wobbly.

Young children can’t quite understand the word “dead”. This leads to them asking questions that seem odd to an adult who does know what dead means.

Between the ages of five and seven your child will have grasped what dead means and that it's final. So they'll ask questions – if they sense that in your family questions are allowed.

If you realise you haven’t been talking with them much about a death, do give them permission to ask questions.

On the other hand, anxiety may come into play if you answer more than they’ve asked.

It’s really hard not to offer more and more, because we care so much about how they’re feeling when they know a brother or sister, or other relative or friend has died.

At times like these, it’s easy to push facts because adults need facts to help them come to terms with the death.

To stem anxiety, it’s good to just answer exactly what they ask about:

“How did X die?” – “They were in a car accident.”
“Will there be a funeral?” – “Yes.”
“Will you die too? – “Not yet. I’m going to be looking after you!”
“Will X miss Kitty?” – “No. When you die, you don’t feel sad any more.”

If your child asks another question, just stay a step behind them and answer that one too. When they've finished with questions, they may well go off and play.

Play and anxious thoughts can’t co-exist. That gives their anxious brain a needed break from sadness and worry.

It can seem strange to us that a child dashes off and forgets they were full of grief a moment ago. But this is “being a child”. It’s what happens. At some point, their grief returns, you help them again, they go off and continue being a child again.

In some ways, this is hard for you, because you will find it very difficult to package up this awful bit of your life and happily turn to something else. But if you can manage to distract yourself and look after yourself as well, you’ll be in a much better position to help your anxious child.

Ways to help a child who is anxious due to a death

I’m writing this, knowing that readers may have various spiritual beliefs, or none, and that different systems exist in different religions.

If you think a recent death or expected death is at the root of your child’s anxiety, take or leave any of these ideas, or adapt them to your own beliefs and circumstances.

You’ve probably looked at the symptoms by now. Maybe change of mood, or changed behaviour?

You may have also decided this anxiety in your child is a certain type of anxiety. Maybe separation anxiety?

So you have a lot to go on when deciding exactly how you might help them.

Here, I’m only going to mention two further things that are often crucial in helping when a death has occurred: stories and art or drawing.

Stories and storytelling

Storytelling sounds scary – which of us is a natural storyteller? But I mean only that storytelling is helpful to an anxious child to keep alive the memory of the person who's died.

It helps them relocate the person to “not being here any more” but still being part of their life.

So storytelling could include:

Telling the child what you remember of the person – not necessarily all at once. "From time to time" works better.

Making up a memory scrapbook or box with things in it, or stuck in, that will bring the person to life but in a different way.

Referring to the relative or sibling or friend in a natural way when other things are happening. Even adults suffer when others think it’s all been said and they should now be “through it”. You might say, “X would have loved to be baking fairy cakes with us, wouldn’t they!” Or, “I know you’d have loved it if X was here to go on the school trip with you. It’s sad, isn’t it?”

If appropriate when family is gathered, include your child in hearing the stories other people have to tell about the person who's died.

And again, if appropriate, do include your child in any funeral arrangements. At services and crematoria, and possibly in faith systems I’m not familiar with, eulogies are often given. It’s good to hear how the person was respected and loved and missed. But if your child doesn’t wish to attend, please don’t insist. I think they know what they’re ready for.

Stories, as opposed to storytelling, for me means books.

So I make no excuses for including some special ones here that I can recommend. But there are many more that have passed through my hands. Have a check in bookshops to see what suits your family and the situation.

Images and stories are super powerful for returning to, taking in and digesting in all sorts of ways when you re-read them. Share them and talk.

Benny’s Hat is written by Juliet Clare Bell and illustrated by Dave Gray. Friz’s big brother Benny gets sick and dies. The story deals with sibling death and parental grief in a lovely gentle way. It’s published by Pomolo Pip.

Cry, Heart, But Never Break is extraordinary in its treatment of death. The grandchildren try to keep the cloaked figure/Grim Reaper occupied so Gran will not die, but eventually she must. In between, they learn so much, so gently, and come to accept it. Written by Glenn Ringtved and illustrated by Charlotte Pardi, it’s published by Enchanted Lion Books.

Cover image for Cry, heart, But Never Die

Sky of Diamonds, written and illustrated by Camille Gibbs and published by Jessica Kingsley, deals with death from a child’s point of view and reassures that it’s okay to express emotions and have the time and space to do so. The author doesn’t avoid the pain and trauma, but there is also hope for some joy in the future. It also offers ideas and activities that can be put in place to support the grief process.

Write your own?

I’m not joking, but if your child is anxious following a death and you want to help them before it becomes longstanding anxiety, it’s a great idea to invent your own story.

You know the details best about what will help your child.

You know things to include that no one else knows.

It doesn’t have to be A-list. It needs to be heartfelt and sensitive. Maybe make the character an animal instead of a child, if you feel it’s safer that way and more likely to be accepted. Make the ending helpful to your child.

That’s all. Print it out. Share it with your child!

Art/Drawing

Most art comes from the side of the brain that bypasses thinking! It sometimes seems to offer a solution within the drawing itself.

Encourage your anxious child to draw their worry. Death can bring lots of worries. Art helps.

Maybe it’s something to do with the situation: perhaps what a funeral might be like, perhaps missing a bedtime story from that person or not having their friend to play with any more. These can all be drawn and maybe discussed afterwards.

Perhaps it’s about the loss of their pet. Draw it. Remember how the pet acted in various scenarios and draw them all. Fill the page with the missing pet. Frame it. Hang it where your child can see it and remember.

If the death has just caused a general unsettledness, encourage taking 15 minutes out to just draw patterns. Patterns are calming and repetitive. Colouring them in is useful too. The repeat movement of the crayon on the paper regulates the breathing after a while and it becomes almost meditative.

There are many other ideas on my strategies pages.

Final note

If you are seriously worried about how your child is coping in the aftermath of a death – or in the months before an expected death – then please use my Help page to find a counsellor skilled in working with children. I give you all the necessary details there to find a good one who is qualified to help.

Traumatic bereavement is different

It is far harder for children (and their parents) to move on from a traumatic bereavement.

If your child seems to be stuck, then consider that some aspect of their grief is traumatising them.

This might be a sibling's suicide, hearing about a grandma dying alone in hospital during the Covid-19 pandemic with no one to hold their hand, or any death where what happened leaves them feeling really unsafe in any way.

The UK Trauma Council has resources for parents and carers explaining traumatic bereavement after a death.

It's well worth a read even if you decide you must find a counsellor for your child. Doing both is fine. "Whatever it takes," as someone in public life says repeatedly.