🌼 Watching them lose someone for the first time…and now watching them face the fear of losing someone again.
I didn’t expect to learn about grief from my own kids.
At first, I thought helping children cope with grief would mean I had to be the one holding them together. Teaching them how to survive something this hard.
And in a lot of ways, I have been.
But somewhere between losing my Papa and now watching my Nana slowly change in front of us, my kids have taught me things about grief I don’t think I could have learned any other way.
Watching Papa Disappear a Little at a Time
That chapter of our lives was already carrying so much before Papa began declining.
I was going through a divorce at the same time.
Looking back, I don’t think I gave myself enough credit for how much my kids were carrying too.
Their home was changing.
And the great-grandfather they loved was slowly becoming someone they didn’t always recognize.
My son had just turned 11.
My daughter was almost six.
They were still in public school then, and the school offered free counseling. I had them talk with someone so they would have a space that belonged completely to them.
Somewhere they could say whatever they were feeling without worrying about how it might affect me.
I think that mattered more than I realized at the time.
They didn’t fully understand what was happening to Papa.
Not at first.
Each time they saw him, he seemed a little less like himself.
They wanted to help him. You could see that.
But you could also see them slowly realizing there wasn’t a way to help him out of what was happening.
Toward the end, the fluid on his brain seemed to make everything move faster.
The memory loss.
The confusion.
The agitation.
He became louder, and if someone told him something different from what he believed was true, it could upset him.
Sometimes he didn’t know who we were.
He often mistook me for his sister, and eventually, I stopped correcting him.
It calmed him when I let it be true.
We would sit together.
Sometimes we would walk around the block…him believing he was walking beside someone else and me simply feeling grateful that he was calm.
The Visit I Almost Didn’t Let Them Have
A few days before Papa passed away, I brought my kids to see him at the nursing home.
He was so thin.
So heavily medicated.
I remember standing there wondering if I should let them see him like that at all.
Part of me wanted to protect the memories they already had of him.
But they wanted to go.
They wanted the chance to see him and tell him they loved him.
And that day, he remembered them.
He was so happy to see them.
I hadn’t seen him smile like that in longer than I could remember.
We showed him a picture on my phone of the kids doing something together. I wish I could remember exactly what the picture was.
He held the phone the best he could with his hands…and kissed it.
I had tears in my eyes.
I wanted to be strong for my kids in that moment, but I also knew I shouldn’t hide everything I was feeling.
I wanted them to know it was safe to cry.
Safe to be scared.
Safe to love someone and feel heartbroken at the same time.
The only way I knew how to show them that was to let myself feel it too.
The Phone Call in the Parking Lot
A few days later, my kids and I went to see the new Sonic movie.
It was a good day.
Something about being at the movies together reminded me of being a child and going places with Nana and Papa.
We walked out of the theater and got back into the car.
That was when Nana called.
I already knew the call was coming.
I had known for a while.
But knowing something is coming and being ready to hear it are two completely different things.
I got off the phone and tried to find the words to tell my kids.
There isn’t a good way to say something like that.
Sometimes you just have to say it simply.
Papa passed away.
We cried.
We held each other in that parking lot until we were ready to drive to Nana.
We brought her flowers and stayed with her for a few days.
I still think about him every day.
Certain memories bring me right back to him…and my heart aches in the same place it always has.
My Son Thought He Had to Become the Man
My kids didn’t grieve Papa in the same way.
My son had just turned 11, and somewhere in his mind, he decided he had to be the man now.
He tried to hide what he was feeling.
He was carrying Papa’s decline, the loss, the separation, and all the changes happening in our family at once.
For a while, he kept it inside.
Until he couldn’t anymore.
Eventually, everything came out as anger and frustration directed toward me.
I knew he wasn’t really angry with me.
He needed somewhere for all that pain to go…and I was the person standing close enough to receive it.
I didn’t get angry with him.
I hugged him.
I told him he was okay.
That I loved him.
And that I was sorry he was having to go through so much.
After that, we started having small talks.
I would check in with him without pushing too hard.
Sometimes I would tell him how I was feeling first.
I would tell him how much I missed Papa.
I would admit that I felt sad knowing he and his sister were going through a divorce and so many changes at the same time.
Those small conversations slowly became longer ones.
He began learning that he didn’t have to hide his feelings to be strong.
And now, he does so much better at sharing what he is carrying before it becomes too heavy.
My Daughter Needed to Talk Through It
My daughter was almost six when Papa died.
She grieved much more openly.
She wanted to talk about her memories of him.
She wanted to tell me she missed him.
She had questions about death and what it meant.
Sometimes the same questions came back more than once.
She needed space to understand something that didn’t make sense to her yet.
Even now, she will suddenly tear up when she remembers the way Papa used to rock her to sleep.
That memory brings my son back too…to the same love, remembered from his own place in it.
And then it brings me back.
Because Papa rocked all three of us at different points in our lives.
The same man.
The same gentle comfort.
Three children, years apart, all carrying a small piece of him.
Now They See It Happening Again
Watching Nana change feels different because my kids are older now.
They understand more.
They notice when her short-term memory slips.
When she repeats something.
When she becomes fixed on a detail that isn’t quite right.
While she was in assisted living, she insisted she had already done her laundry. Another time, she was sure she owned a laundry basket that had never existed.
She didn’t like being told otherwise.
My kids have learned that gently letting certain things be isn’t dishonest.
Sometimes it is the kindest choice.
Now that Nana lives with us, we are all part of caring for her.
If she needs something, one of us notices.
If I need to focus more of my attention on her for a while, my older two help with the rest of the house without needing to be asked twice.
They have more patience than they did when they were younger.
But they also understand what these changes can mean…and that understanding brings its own kind of pain.
They don’t want to experience another loss.
They don’t want to watch Nana lose more of her memories or see her body continue declining.
I remind them that she has lived a good life and that she is now surrounded by people who love her and want to keep her comfortable.
But I know that doesn’t take all the fear away.
When My Daughter Becomes Afraid of Losing Everyone
Sometimes my daughter breaks down when she thinks about Nana.
Her thoughts begin moving from one loss to another.
She starts feeling as though everyone she loves is dying.
And then she becomes afraid that I will die too.
When that happens, I give her a big hug and kiss her forehead.
I tell her I understand how scary it is to think about death…and all the unknown that comes with it.
I don’t pretend I can promise that the people we love will always be here.
I just try to tell her the truth as gently as I can.
Every life eventually comes to an end, no matter how deeply we wish we could keep the people we love forever.
Bringing Her Back to What We Still Have
But I also remind her that Nana and Papa were given the chance to grow older.
They were able to live full lives…and that is a gift we can sometimes overlook when our hearts are focused on how much we don’t want to lose them.
Nana’s son died in an accident just three months before I was born.
He was only 18 years old.
He didn’t get the years Nana and Papa were given.
He didn’t get the chance to grow older, build more memories, or live the full life everyone imagined for him.
That is why I remind my daughter that we cannot let the fear of losing someone someday take away the time we still have with them today.
Right now, Nana is here.
We can hug her.
We can sit beside her.
We can make her comfortable, listen to her stories—even when we have heard them before—and remind her that she is surrounded by people who love her.
What I’ve Learned About Helping My Kids Cope With Grief
Helping children cope with grief has looked completely different with each of my kids.
My kids didn’t have the words for grief the first time.
They had confusion.
The desire to help.
The pain of realizing they couldn’t stop what was happening.
This time, they have more understanding.
More patience.
More of the quiet kind of love that shows up through small acts instead of big words.
I don’t think I taught them all of that.
I think grief taught them some of it…and I was there to watch it happen.
They taught me that children don’t have to grieve the same way.
One may need to talk about it openly.
Another may need small conversations and time before they feel safe enough to let everything out.
They taught me that protecting children from every painful feeling isn’t always possible.
Sometimes the best thing I can do is stay close enough that they don’t have to carry those feelings alone.
And they have reminded me that when someone we love is no longer here, the love we shared with them does not disappear.
It stays in the memories they gave us.
In the stories we continue telling.
In the little pieces of them that become part of who we are.
So when my daughter’s heart becomes frightened by everything that could happen someday, I bring her back to what we have right now.
Today, Nana is here.
Today, I am here.
Today, we can love each other.
And today is still ours.
If you are helping children cope with grief right now—whether the loss was sudden or you are watching someone slowly change—I don’t think there is a perfect way to guide them through it.
Stay close.
Let them grieve in the way that comes naturally to them.
And when their hearts become afraid of tomorrow…gently bring them back to the love that is still here today. 🤍
With love,
Rachel (RaiRai 💛)
→ Caring for My Nana While Raising Three Kids of My Own — As She Turns 80
→ To the Fathers Who Keep Showing Up
→ The Version of Me I’m Still Becoming
This post is based on my family’s personal experience with grief and loss. Every child processes grief differently. If your child is struggling, a counselor or child therapist can offer support based on their individual needs. The American Academy of Pediatrics also shares guidance on helping a child cope with grief and loss.
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