Marian Carter, a chaplain in hospitals and hospices, describes some of the children she has met during her working life, and their own unique ways of dealing with grief.
We think of children as innocent and in need of protection from the challenging events of life, particularly suffering and death. But children experience death. They may see a dead bird in the garden or a cat that has been run over. Reactions are different.
One day going home from school William, who is ten, noticed a cat in the road which had been run over. Other pupils passed by in horror but William comes from a Roman Catholic family. He stopped and prayed aloud for the cat.
Turning to his mother he said, “The cat is now in heaven with Jesus,” and walked confidently on. For William, grief was acknowledged and given to God.
Stephanie lived in the country. At three she came across a dead pheasant. She was distressed and asked her mother if she breathed on it, would it come alive.
Grief caused distress for Stephanie and led to her need for action.
I know of a parent who rang up the head teacher of her child's primary school to complain of a school assembly to remember a child in the class who had died of a terminal illness; "I don't want my child's innocence to be spoilt," she said.
This is denial of grief in a child, by a parent who wanted her child to be protected from the reality that life involves suffering.
Her body was lying on the sofa in the main room, a cat curled up on her feet. Her brother and sisters played on the floor around her, unperturbed.
This is a relatively modern attitude which tends to be western and middle class. I remember visiting a farmer's cottage. Their ten year old daughter had died of leukaemia. Her body was lying on the sofa in the main room, a cat curled up on her feet. Her brother and sisters played on the floor around her, unperturbed.
Death was nothing to be feared.
A few years ago, during a period of unemployment, my brother asked if I could go and stay with a family who were friends of his, though not known to me.
His friends' wife had died at home after fighting cancer. She left a distraught husband and three young daughters. Her daughters had been told by their maternal grandmother that their mum was getting better.
The eldest girl, Sally, was 10. She went to school as usual. I telephoned the school to find out her reactions. The school knew of the mother's death, since it was a small community, and Sally's teacher said it was as if Sally was "all bottled up."
Sally’s grief was a change in behaviour, a sullenness.
I spent time with Sally. As the eldest, she knew where cooking pots and china were kept. I depended on her help to run the house. Gradually we built up a relationship and she felt able to share her grief.
Judy, aged six, was angry. She was sure that mum had died because the nurse had arrived late. Her emotions were expressed by getting out her mum's jewellery and high heeled shoes and clattering around the house. This distressed her grieving father.
Anger and challenging behaviour was Judy's expression of grief.
The youngest of the girls, Amy, was two and a half. When I took Amy out in her pushchair we met people she knew. They did not know what to say to such a young child, but Amy did. She said to them, "My mummy's dead."
Later that day Amy and I did a jigsaw. Unfortunately there was a piece missing. Her reaction was, "It’s dead."
At the age of two and a half, Amy's grief was expressed in this way. Her mother had been virtually bedridden for much of Amy's life, but now life had changed - her mother was missing.
Children grieve in different ways. We must be aware of this, listen, watch and be there for a child.
Marian's book, Helping Children to Think About Death, Dying and Bereavement, is published by Jessica Kingsley Publishers and is available from Amazon.