I’ll never forget the day they walked into my office—a quiet, wide-eyed six-year-old, barely clinging to the edges of their world after losing a parent. It was their first time in therapy.
They didn’t know what to say. Honestly, they didn’t say much at all. Their little body seemed to carry the full weight of their loss, and the silence between us was heavy. They weren’t just mourning the death of a parent. They were mourning the loss of everything that once made life feel safe. Their world had been rearranged overnight: A new home. A new bed. A new school, a new routine, a new person making their breakfast. Even the snacks were different.

That’s the thing about grief; especially for children; It doesn’t just take a loved one. It steals familiarity. It rewrites the rules of everyday life, and it can leave a child feeling completely untethered. In those early sessions, this little one hardly spoke. They were shut down, not because they didn’t care but because they didn’t know how to start. The grief had frozen their voice and their life. It took months of slow, steady work. Social stories, daily routines, gentle praise, and a whole lot of patience. We had to build a bridge between their old life and this new, unfamiliar world.

None of it would have worked without the consistent, loving presence of their new caregiver. Together, we created a space where safety could return. Where words could find their way back. Where a new life, different, but still full of hope—could begin to take shape.

Eventually, they started to talk. Then came laughter. Then came life.

Grief is never just about death and pain from the loss. It’s about change, disruption, loneliness, identity. And when we lose someone, we love, we lose more than just their presence, we lose pieces of ourselves, too. However, healing happens in connection. In trust.

In the quiet power of someone showing up, again and again, with kindness. That’s what saved this child. Not therapy alone, but the circle of support that surrounded them with love when their world had fallen apart. Never underestimate the healing power of a steady, compassionate presence. Sometimes, that’s where the story begins again….

When a child experiences the death of someone they love: a sibling, parent, grandparent, or close friend, the world can suddenly feel uncertain, unfamiliar, and frightening. Children grieve just as deeply as adults do, but their grief often looks different. They may not yet have the words to describe their emotions, or the life experience to make sense of what has happened. As parents, grandparents, or caregivers, we may feel helpless in the face of their pain, uncertain of how to offer comfort, or afraid of saying the wrong thing. However, what grieving children need most isn’t perfection, its presence. Our love, honesty, and consistency can help them feel safe enough to begin the long, difficult work of healing.

Children’s understanding of death changes depending on their age and developmental stage. Infants and toddlers do not comprehend death but may sense the absence of a loved one and react with changes in sleep, feeding, or behavior. Preschoolers might believe death is temporary or reversible and may ask when the person is coming back. School-aged children begin to grasp the finality of death, but may struggle with guilt, magical thinking, or anxiety. Teenagers typically understand death as adults do, but they may express grief through moodiness, withdrawal, or even risk-taking behaviors. At any age, grief can resurface unexpectedly over time, especially during birthdays, holidays, or other milestones. It’s not unusual for children to seem fine for a while, only to express their grief months later. Grief in children often appears through behavior rather than words. Some may become quiet and withdrawn, while others may act out with anger or irritability. Young children might regress, returning to behaviors they had outgrown like thumb-sucking, bedwetting, or needing extra reassurance at bedtime. Changes in eating and sleep patterns are common, as is clinginess or separation anxiety. Some children might ask the same questions over and over, trying to understand the loss, while others might imitate the person who died as a way to stay close to them. Emotionally, children may experience deep sadness, anger, confusion, fear, guilt, or even emotional numbness. These responses are all valid and all signals that a child is trying, in their own way, to make sense of an impossible experience.

Supporting a grieving child doesn’t mean having all the answers. It means creating a space where they feel safe to express themselves and know that their feelings whatever they may be are okay. One of the most important things we can do is to speak honestly and clearly, using age-appropriate language. Avoid euphemisms like “went to sleep” or “passed on,” which can confuse younger children or even cause fear around sleep or illness. Instead, gently but directly explain what happened, and be prepared to repeat and revisit the conversation over time. Grief isn’t a one-time event. It’s a journey that unfolds slowly, in layers.

Children also benefit from being invited into the process of remembering. Encourage them to share stories, draw pictures, make memory boxes, or look at photos of the person who died. Including them in memorials or funerals, when appropriate, can help them feel connected and give them a sense of closure. Maintaining familiar routines can offer a sense of stability and predictability, which is especially important when everything else feels uncertain. Make room for creative outlets like art, music, writing, and play are powerful ways children can express what they might not yet be able to say with words.

At the same time, it's important to recognize when a child might need additional support. If their grief becomes overwhelming, interferes with daily life, or seems stuck or prolonged, a grief-informed therapist or counselor can be an invaluable source of help. Support groups, especially those geared toward children and teens, can also be beneficial by giving them a place to connect with peers who understand their pain.

As we walk alongside grieving children, we must also care for ourselves. Our own grief matters, too. Children are remarkably perceptive they often take emotional cues from the adults around them. Being open about our own sadness, without overwhelming them, shows that it's okay to mourn and talk about hard things. Seeking support for ourselves through therapy, support groups, or simply talking with trusted friends can help us be more present for the children in our lives.

Grieving with children is a sacred, tender responsibility. We may not be able to take away their pain, but we can hold space for it. We can offer them love that listens, words that reassure, and arms that hold them close. In doing so, we help them feel not alone in their sorrow and that’s one of the most healing gifts we can offer.

Because grief, in all its forms, deserves compassion. And because, truly, we need not walk alone.

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