When someone we love dies, we instinctively want to shield the children in our lives from the pain of it. We use softer words — “passed away,” “gone to sleep,” “we lost them” — because the real ones feel too heavy to place in small hands. We wonder whether to bring them to the funeral, whether to cry in front of them, whether it’s better to wait until they’re older to explain what has really happened.
These instincts come from such a loving place. And yet, as Dr. Kenneth Doka — one of the world’s foremost experts on grief — has spent decades reminding us, children are always grieving, whether we give them permission to or not. The question is never really whether a child will grieve. It’s whether they will feel safe enough to do it.
This article is for parents, caregivers, teachers, and anyone who loves a child who is navigating loss. It’s about understanding what grief actually looks like in children, what they need most from the adults around them, and how we can show up for them in ways that truly help.
Children Grieve Differently
One of the most important things to understand about children and grief is that it does not look the same as it does in adults. You may notice a child crying one moment and then asking to go outside to play the next. You might wonder if they’re in shock, or if they’re not processing what has happened, or whether they fully understood the news at all.
They probably did. And they are processing it — just in the way that children do.
Doka describes children as “puddle jumpers” in their grief: they dip in and out of their pain rather than sitting in it continuously the way adults often do. This is actually a healthy and self-protective way of grieving. It doesn’t mean the loss isn’t felt deeply. It means the child is doing what they need to do to manage something that is far bigger than their nervous system can hold all at once.
What this means for us as adults is that we need to let go of the idea that a grieving child should look a certain way. A child who is laughing at dinner the night after a loss is not unaffected. A child who seems fine at school and then falls apart at bedtime is not being dramatic. A child who asks the same question about death over and over again is not failing to understand — they are integrating, little by little, a reality that takes time to make sense of.
The Importance of Honest, Age-Appropriate Language
One of the most helpful things we can do for a grieving child — and one of the things that is hardest for many adults — is to use honest, clear language when talking about death.
Euphemisms like “passed away,” “went to sleep,” “we lost Grandma,” or “God took them” are well-intentioned, but they can create real confusion and fear for young children. A child who is told that someone “went to sleep and didn’t wake up” may become terrified of going to bed. A child who hears that Grandpa was “taken” may feel anxious about who might be taken next.
Doka emphasizes that being direct with children — using the actual words “died” and “death” — is one of the most important gifts we can give them. It tells them that this is something we can talk about. It gives them accurate information so they don’t have to fill in the gaps with their imagination, which is often far more frightening than the truth. And it models that grief is something we face together, not something to be hidden away.
This doesn’t mean overwhelming a child with more detail than they need. Age matters. A four-year-old and a twelve-year-old will need different conversations. But in both cases, honesty — offered gently, and with space for questions — is the foundation.
A helpful way to approach these conversations, as Doka suggests, is to first understand the context of what a child is asking. Before answering, try saying: “That’s an interesting question — what made you think of that?” This helps you understand what the child is actually wondering and what they might already know or fear, so you can respond in a way that is truly useful to them.
What Shapes a Child’s Grief
Every child’s experience of grief is unique, shaped by a number of factors. Doka identifies several key influences that are worth keeping in mind:
Their age and developmental stage. A toddler may not understand the permanence of death. A school-aged child may have lots of concrete questions. A teenager may feel a deep need to grieve privately, or may be afraid of being singled out among their peers.
Their relationship with the person who died. The closer and more central the relationship, the more significant the loss. The death of a parent is one of the most profound losses a child can experience. But the death of a grandparent, a sibling, a friend, or even a pet can be equally significant to a particular child — and deserves to be treated as such.
The nature of the death. Was it sudden or expected? Was there illness over a long period of time? Was it traumatic? These factors shape not only the grief itself but the child’s sense of safety and predictability in the world.
Their existing emotional health and past experiences with loss. A child who has experienced previous losses, or who is managing other challenges, may find grief harder to navigate and may need more support.
The support available to them. Perhaps most importantly: children do better when the adults around them are able to grieve openly and honestly alongside them, and when they have consistent, caring people to turn to.
Children’s Grief Can Be Disenfranchised
Doka coined the term “disenfranchised grief” to describe grief that is not openly acknowledged, validated, or supported by those around the person who is grieving. And children, perhaps more than any other group, are vulnerable to having their grief disenfranchised.
This can happen in a number of ways. Adults may minimize a child’s grief — “You’re too young to really understand,” or “At least you still have your other grandparent.” Children may not be included in rituals like funerals, which can leave them without the meaningful goodbye that those experiences provide. They may be told to “be strong” for a grieving parent, or to not bring up the person who died because it makes the adults sad. Teachers and peers may not know how to respond to a bereaved child, which can leave them feeling deeply alone.
What children need, above all else, is to have their grief recognized. To be told: yes, this is real, this hurts, and it’s okay to feel it. When we validate a child’s loss — whatever form it takes — we give them permission to grieve in a way that is healthy and honest.
Funerals and Rituals: Should Children Attend?
This is one of the questions I am asked most often by parents navigating loss with their children. The short answer, supported by grief researchers including Doka: yes, when children are old enough and willing, including them in funeral rituals is generally beneficial.
Rituals offer something incredibly important to the bereaved — a shared acknowledgment that this loss is real, that the person mattered, and that we are not alone in our grief. These benefits apply to children just as much as they do to adults. Excluding children from rituals can inadvertently communicate that their grief is less valid, or that death is something too frightening to face together.
The key is preparation and choice. Before a child attends a visitation or funeral, take time to explain what they will see and hear — that people may be crying, that there may be a casket, that some people may also be laughing and sharing stories. Let them know what to expect so there are no surprises. And give them a sense of agency: let them choose how involved they want to be, whether they’d like to say something or contribute in some way, and who they’d like to be with.
A child who chooses not to attend should have that choice respected. What matters is that they are given the option and the support to make it.
How to Support a Grieving Child: Practical Guidance
There is no perfect script for supporting a child through loss. But here are some of the things that research and clinical experience tell us truly help:
Be present. You don’t need to have the right words. Sitting with a child, being available, and letting them know you are there is often more important than anything you could say.
Talk about the person who died. One of the most meaningful things we can do for a grieving child is to keep the memory of the person alive. Share stories. Look at photos together. Say their name. This gives children permission to continue loving someone who has died — what Doka and other grief researchers call “continuing bonds” — rather than feeling like they need to let go.
Maintain routines. Structure is deeply comforting to grieving children. School, activities, mealtimes, bedtime rituals — these provide a sense of stability in a world that has suddenly shifted beneath their feet.
Watch for signs that a child needs more support. Some changes in behaviour are a normal part of grief — regression, sleep difficulties, changes in appetite, irritability, clinginess. But if these persist for an extended period, if a child seems to be withdrawing significantly, or if they are expressing hopelessness or harming themselves, it is important to reach out to a mental health professional who works with children and grief.
Take care of yourself. This one is for the adults. Children take their cues from us. When we are able to grieve openly — when we let a child see that we are sad, and that we are coping, and that life continues even when it is hard — we give them a roadmap for their own grief. You don’t have to have it all together. You just have to be honest.
Don’t wait for a crisis. As Doka wisely notes, talking to children about loss and death is too important to wait until we are in the middle of one. Finding small, natural opportunities to discuss death — a leaf falling, a pet dying, a story in a book — helps normalize it as a part of life, and opens the door so that when a significant loss does happen, children know they can come to us.
A Note on Seeking Professional Support
There are times when a child’s grief benefits from more than what family and community can offer. This is not a sign of failure — it is a sign of love and attentiveness.
A social worker or therapist who specializes in children’s grief can offer a safe, supportive space for a child to process their loss in ways that feel right for them. Play therapy, art therapy, storytelling, and other creative modalities are often used with younger children for whom words alone are not enough. Group programs that connect bereaved children with peers who have had similar experiences can also be profoundly healing.
If you are unsure whether your child might benefit from additional support, trust your instincts. Reaching out for a consultation with a professional is always a reasonable step, and it is far easier to provide support early than to address complicated grief later on.
Final Thoughts
Children are not too young to grieve. They are not protected from loss by their age or their innocence. What they are — when we show up for them well — is remarkably resilient. They can carry hard things when they have people beside them who are honest, present, and willing to feel it with them.
We cannot take grief away from a child. But we can make sure they don’t have to carry it alone. And that, in the end, is what matters most.
