Helping Children Cope With Death
By Erna Furman, B.A., former faculty member of the Cleveland Center for Research in Child Development and Assistant Clinical Professor, Department of Psychiatry, Case Western Reserve University Medical School, Cleveland, Ohio
This article is adapted from a talk given in May 1975 at the Seventh Annual Workshop of the Cleveland Center for Research in Child Development for Preschool Educators of North Eastern Ohio.
Perhaps there are some among you who find the topic of death particularly trying because you have recently lost a loved one or because you suffer from old bereavement wounds that are still sore and painful. To those who are hurting and struggling to cope, I extend my sympathies and also my apologies lest this article contain thoughts that might inadvertently make things harder for you.
Many of us go through life for long periods without thinking about death. When it suddenly strikes very close to us, it comes as a shock, not only because it always represents a loss but also because we get the horrible feeling that “this could be me; this could happen to me, to my family, to my children and friends.” We have a tendency to deal with this fear by adopting one of two extreme attitudes. We may feel the impact as though the tragedy had really happened to us. We put ourselves in the shoes of the bereaved or of the dying and feel so overwhelmed and anxious that we are unable to extend ourselves appropriately to those who need our help. At the other extreme, we shield ourselves and behave as if “this is not real; this did not happen to me; I don’t want to hear, read, or talk about it.” This reaction too prevents us from extending a helping hand because it keeps us from coming to terms with our own feelings. Often we waver from one extreme to the other until, hopefully, we reach a kind of middle ground where we are able to feel, “There but for the grace of God go I; it is not me but it could be.” When we arrive at this hard-to-reach point we begin to be able to think and feel with others and to help them as well as ourselves.
Many years ago at the Hanna Perkins (therapeutic) Nursery School, we were working without thinking about death. Then within one year, two mothers of young children died, leaving their families as well as therapists, teachers, peers, and friends stunned. We had to cope with the immediate reality and struggle to come to terms with what had happened. But this was only the beginning. In the course of the next few years, we found that, without having sought cases of bereavement, we had in intensive treatment 23 children of all ages who had lost a parent through death. Each analyst who treated a bereaved child and worked with the family found it so difficult and painful that we turned to each other to share and learn together. We hoped that in this way we would be better able to understand and help our patients and, perhaps, formulate some thought that might be of general interest and serve to assist others (Furman 1974). I would like to share with you some of the things we learned, trying to pick out what might be particularly helpful to teachers of young children.
As you know, it does not take the death of a parent to bring children to an encounter with death. Many grandparents, siblings, relatives, and pets die. There are also many daily events which bring children face to face with death, be it a passing funeral procession or a dead worm in the backyard. The worst bereavement is the death of a parent. It is a unique experience distinct from all other losses, such as divorce or separation, and distinct from other experiences with death. Many nursery school teachers may be fortunate enough never to have a pupil whose parent dies, but they are surely called upon to help with some less tragic bereavements and the many daily encounters with death – the ants a child steps on or the dead mouse someone brings for show-and-tell (Hoffman 1974).
Our bereaved children came to treatment with many different symptoms. Parental death is unique; it happens to unique people who respond in unique ways. Our patients most often responded in a disturbed, unhealthy fashion, sometimes at the time of the bereavements, sometimes not until many years later. But we were deeply impressed that some children only about 2 years of age, because of very optimal circumstances, could master their tragic loss. By contrast, we had much older patients who could not master it all. I do not mean to imply that the 2-year-olds master this stress more easily; on the contrary, it is harder. Nor is it short-lived for them; it lasts longer. I am not speaking of the degree of pain and anguish, but the ability to master ultimately. To me that means that these children were upset, struggled and suffered, but were able to mourn their parents and to progress in their development. The danger of parental bereavement does not lie in the formation of isolated symptoms or difficulties. The main danger is that I may arrest or distort a child’s development toward becoming a fully functioning adult. Many of the factors involved touch upon the role of the teacher and offer an opportunity to develop in children those qualities which will enable them to master a future bereavement or to help them and their peers to cope with a current loss or minor encounter with death.
