OP-ED
My 2 cents on...
…Explaining Loss
to Children
By Sherlin Giri
In this exclusive series,
our guest columnistsparents weigh in on the
issues that are closest to
their hearts. This month,
a mother shares with us
how she explained the
idea of death to her young
children, when the man
in their lives suddenly
passes away.
The death of a loved one is possibly
the most devastating thing that can
happen to anyone. It is all the more
painful when death comes suddenly
and tragically to take the life of a
beloved. What is left is a gaping hole
in the heart and psyche, for which no
amount of consolation and comforting
can suture.
When death claimed my husband in a
car crash in July this year, I was left
not only widowed but suddenly, the
sole parent of two young children, my
daughter Samara, aged seven and my
son, Shiraz aged five. It was not just the
life we had built as husband and wife
that had crashed in that accident. Along
with it, my children lost all possibility of
growing up with Daddy, with whom to
witness and experience life’s milestones
and to co-create the story of our lives.
As adults, we can still grasp the stark
reality of death and knowing that we will
never see Daddy again in this life.
But try explaining that to a child, who
does not even know where heaven or
what a soul is. A child who asks, “Does
that mean that Daddy can fly now?”
Therefore, when people ask me how the
kids are handling it, it’s a tricky question
to answer.
For adults, we’ve had a lifetime
of socialisation and experience to
understand the concept of death.
Children, on the other hand, do not
understand death the way we do.
So, when Daddy died, there was a lot of
explaining to do.
During the wake, I took them to the
coffin and explained to them that this
was Daddy’s body that was left behind
while his soul departed to be with the
angels. I felt it was necessary because,
due to the accident, his face was
somewhat disfigured and heavily made
up. It did not look like Daddy. I explained
that Daddy had make up on to cover the
lacerations and to look presentable in
the coffin. But it was okay because his
body no longer feels anything as his soul
has left.
I made a conscious decision to involve
the children whenever I could during the
funeral. After the eulogy, Samara sang
I Have A Dream by Abba, as friends and
family paid their last respects. It was
Samara’s request to sing and thankfully,
many voices joined us heartily to lend
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Family & Life • Dec 2013/Jan 2014
support to her little, unwavering voice. It
was a magical moment in the bleakness
of our loss and an experience that gave
us a ray of hope just before we saw
Daddy for one last time.
They were not present when I collected
the ashes to be scattered in the sea
either. I felt that they had a healthy,
wholesome memory of Daddy a 2