How to Talk to Children About Death, Grief and Loss.
People often ask me how to talk to children about death and support them in their grieving. It’s one of the hardest conversations we’ll ever have, and yet avoiding it does more harm than good.
At some point I noticed that talking to kids and young people about death and grief bears distinct similarities to talking to them about sex. Not what you want to do - but another vital part of parenting - and the same rules seem to apply. In essence, be clear, keep it simple, pitch your content and detail to suit their age and development, use plain language (avoid jargon or metaphors) and be guided by their questions. I know it’s tough, but they need us to be honest.
If we want children to grow up emotionally literate, able to face life’s losses with psychological flexibility, courage, compassion and understanding, we need to bring them into the conversations AND model what healthy grieving looks and sounds like. Not shut it away like some Victorian melodrama.
“Be clear, keep it simple, pitch your content and detail to suit their age and development, use plain language (avoid jargon or metaphors) and be guided by their questions.”
Dr Lucy Hone
Children don’t need perfect words: just the truth, told with kindness.
Avoid vague language. Euphemisms like “gone to sleep”, “in a better place”, or “passed away” can frighten or confuse them. Children take things literally and may start to fear bedtime or worry that others who “go away” won’t come back.
Lauren Zonfrillo has spoken beautifully about this, describing the moment she told her two and five year old children that their father, Jock, had died in an episode of The Imperfects podcast. Instead of choosing words she thought might confuse them, she told them plainly:
“I’ve got some really sad news. Papa has died and he’s not coming back.”
She also shares some of their raw and real questions - When did it happen? Where is he now? Do you think he’s cold? Won’t he come back, even for a cuddle? To which she repeated, '“No because Papa's dead, so he can never come back”.
When Abi died, one of her 10 year old friends asked me, “Is that the only dress she can wear from now on?” Such an innocent question which reminded me how curious, literal and honest children are in the face of loss; they seem to know how to talk about death instinctively, it’s just us adults that make a meal of it.
My husband, whose father died suddenly when he was 11, can still recall the odd behaviour from the adults in his life. “Why was everyone acting so strangely? I craved some normality in the face of the shock of my Dad dying. I would have liked to have been spoken to in their normal kind way, explaining how, yes, something terrible had happened, they like me were shocked and very sad, and yes we would all try and help each other through this the best we could.” Instead he remembers well intended, awkward, disarming kindness, frequent hushed conversations and sudden silences when he entered a room.
You Don’t Need to Have All the Answers
If you’re unsure what to say, start small. Offer one clear sentence, then pause and let them lead with their questions. Children process loss in short bursts: they’ll circle back when they’re ready for more - particularly if you’ve demonstrated to them that you are willing to engage them in honest, direct comms. You don’t have to have all the perfect answers - sometimes there are no answers - just show them they can trust you to tell the truth.
I was struck by Lauren’s ability to meet her children’s questions with such direct honesty instead of avoidance or false comfort. That kind of straight-talking bravery takes enormous guts, but is kinder than skirting round it for everyone in the long run.
We can’t protect children from loss, but we can protect them from confusion and fear. Honest conversations - however imperfect, however much we stumble, cry and falter - are better than the alternative. They’ll help them feel safe, included, seen, heard and loved.
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