Surviving the Dark Valley: A Guide for Walking Through Loss with Children
Unexpected Grief
On September 3rd, 2015, Matt, my oldest brother, died while mountain climbing in Colorado. He was 41. He was a faithful father and husband, beloved by all who knew him.
Grief tore through my family like a bullet, and left us all wounded and wondering what was next. We wandered through those days as if in a thick fog, wondering where God was, where we were, and what the path ahead might look like. I was young in grief and unprepared as a man, let alone a pastor, for how to live faithfully in that pain. Those were hard, confusing days. In the evening, I would sit down at the dinner table to my children’s four sets of little eyes, watching me mourn the deepest loss I had ever known. I didn’t know what to do. What could I say to them to offer comfort when my grief was so raw? This was a humbling moment.
Perhaps you’ve been there too. Parenting is hard on a good day. But when my heart was broken, and my mind was weary, I struggled to know what to say. I say this with no shame. Who knows what to say in the valley of the shadow? Only God.
Thankfully, he is not silent. I remember his words to me in those days. Whispered remembrances in my soul of promises yet to be fulfilled. An empty tomb. A certain hope. A kind and conquering King. Grief mingled with hope is a gift to share with young hearts. So in fits and starts, I stole moments with them to share stories, reflect on promises, and remember how to smile.
“I remember his words to me in those days. Whispered remembrances in my soul of promises yet to be fulfilled. An empty tomb. A certain hope. A kind and conquering King.”
We just passed seven years since losing my brother. Grief struck our little family again last summer, when my children witnessed their Aunt Karissa lose her short and terrible battle with cancer. Now five sets of little eyes watched my wife and I, and their widower uncle, grieve. Older now, they grieved with us in their own ways.
Can We Talk About Death?
I don’t know a lot about grief. It is mysterious to me. But I want to share some things that I’ve learned as a father, for the sake of my children. I have several topics I’d like to reflect on with you, but in this first post, I want to write a defense for talking to children honestly about death.
The reality of death is all around us. Our children struggle to understand it–grandparents aging, pets lost, baby birds fallen from nests in the yard. Or even more devastatingly, parents lost, or siblings taken too soon. Even the parental nightmare of a terminal cancer diagnosis for a child. The curse is real. Bodies break. Tragedy strikes. If we’re honest, we are awful, just awful, at talking about it with children.
I know the feeling. Grief is thick in the air. My child fidgets, feeling the strangeness of the moment. “Hey, buddy! It’s been a long day, let’s go get some ice cream!” Maybe even more common, “you can have some screen time.” In those moments, we’d like to think we’ve helped them. All we’ve really done is let ourselves off the hook from having important discussions about the reality of grief and loss.
We need to talk about death and grief with our children. Not because it’s easy, but because it is an indispensable aspect of their discipleship. They will experience loss through their entire life. In the years they are with you at home, you have an irreplaceable opportunity to show them how to grieve. May we never fail to lay hold of these moments for the good of our children.
Four Objections
You may object. This may be hard for you to swallow, and you may have no interest in broaching these topics with your little ones. Whatever your reasons, your children need your help. Here are four objections parents often make when faced with having these tough conversations, and how to answer them.
1. “It will hurt them too badly to talk about the person they’ve lost. They’re not ready for it.”
Far from it! Walking with children through grief honors their lost relationship, and opens up their hearts to express pain and receive care. When we faced loss, I wasn’t the only one who lost somebody. I lost my brother and sister-in-law, but they lost their uncle and aunt. My pain is different from theirs, but no less seen or real in the eyes of their heavenly Father. Their grief deserves acknowledgment and requires expression. Speaking to them honestly about the painful reality of death and grief is an act of love.
2. “They aren’t really grieving. They seem fine!”
This is a very common sentiment because children express grief so differently from adults. They may ask strange or wild questions, or be playful or lighthearted one moment, and sad and quiet the next. This inconsistency isn’t because they aren’t grieving, but because they are children. Children have eternity swimming around in their hearts, but they don’t understand it. They sense a villain, a plight, a lingering doom, and they are afraid. It may seem like they’re just fine, and they may be fine in the moment. Their experience of grief is filtered through the capacities of a child, but children feel deeply, even if those emotions show up somewhat chaotically.
3. “It’s probably better if I let them process things on their own terms.”
It’s easy enough to see that children need guidance in almost everything they do. We help them with homework, riding a bike, finances, and how to play sports. How much more do they need guidance and companionship in the shadow of loss? Dark valleys are more easily navigated with a present and experienced guide to hold a torch for them. Leaving children to figure out these things on their own extends their wandering in the darkness. Giving them your hand helps them to develop courage that they can make it through, and reminds them that they are not alone.
4. “I don’t understand why God let this happen! How can I help them, when I’m struggling to trust God, myself?”
In the scriptures, questioning God seems to be a natural part of the life of a believer. “Why did you let this happen?” “How long will you wait?” “Where were you?” The scriptures give us permission to approach God with our questions, anger, and sadness. When we grieve in this way in front of our children, we give them permission to do the same. We don’t have to have all the answers, but we should model how to point our questions toward God.
So if you’ve lost a loved one, or your child has lost someone near to them, please take that awkward and godly step of reaching out to them. Meet them right where they are in their pain.
Grab the Rope
Looking back on our moments of grief, I have found four themes that resounded in my conversations. Four strands that formed a rope to grasp in the confusing dark valley. These four strands are summarized in four words: remember, listen, try, and believe.
Remember who was lost.
Listen to your own soul.
Try to keep living in the days that God has given.
Believe the good news of the resurrected King.
Over the next few weeks I want to begin teasing out these strands in the hopes that the Lord might lower a rope into your dark valley, pulling you out of despair, and closer to hope. These four themes will have their own blog posts, and I think they’re all incredibly helpful in navigating the dark valley with children (or even as adults, honestly).
If you’re wondering where to start, begin by framing your conversations around these four questions.
What are you remembering most about ________? (Remember)
What are your biggest feelings right now? When are you most happy? When are you most sad? (Listen)
Is there anything that used to be easy, but now feels hard? Is anything making you feel afraid? (Try)
What does the story of Jesus help us to believe when we think about death? (Believe)
Thinking through these questions helps us to find our footing and start the conversation. You will surely stumble. You may very well be asked a question that you cannot answer, or given an answer that makes you weep. But it is my deep hope that you will find that the Christ who walked from the tomb is present with you by his Spirit.
Surely He is coming soon. Remember, weep, and hope.