“Mommy, what happens after you die?”
Some of the most difficult questions you will ever face will come from the mouth of your child. The urge to respond, even when we don’t have a clear answer, is something every parent knows well. Engaged parenting requires us to shape and guide our children through tough conversations about challenging topics, concerns, and questions that do not have easy answers.
When a child asks a difficult question, silence or avoidance is not what we should lean into as parents. Yet, what do we say? What can we say? Our innate ability to gather information, identify patterns, and gain insight is what helps us create, innovate, connect, and problem-solve in the most profound ways. When we feel that we understand the “why,” we are better at processing and making adjustments necessary to navigate a complicated world. As such, our children’s tough questions are valuable and healthy. So, how do we support our children and guide them through difficult situations we barely comprehend ourselves? We start by demonstrating, through words and actions, the most important messages: how to respond to grief and how to find hope in times of despair.
Trying to wrap our heads around senseless loss and feeling deep empathy are important as we continue to process tragedies, not only for ourselves but for our children. While empathy can be painful, it is a beautiful way to model the gold standard of human relationships. When our oldest son’s classmate unexpectedly lost a parent this year, we talked to him about empathy. Like anyone, he was unsure of what to say to his friend or how to respond. We shared with him the essence of what empathy looks like. It is not about what you say, but instead about being present with a friend, sitting with them in their grief, and connecting with them.
If you are like me, you have found it extremely difficult to process the tragic events that occurred in the Hill Country this summer. I found myself fighting back tears as I huddled in bed with my 8-year-old son, listening to calming music like we do every night. All I could think about was how thankful I felt to be lying there with my son, safe and sound, when I knew there were many parents across Texas who would not have that opportunity ever again. Empathy swelled within me to the point of pain. Since that weekend, I have seen and heard the heartache of many others as they empathize deeply with those who are suffering. While empathy can be an overwhelming emotion, it is an important part of connection and understanding.
Researcher and author Brené Brown describes how “in order to connect with [another person], [we] have to connect with something in [ourselves] that knows that feeling.” Allowing ourselves to tap into feelings (even the uncomfortable ones) creates the empathy that ultimately drives connection. Why is this important? In the face of grief, we often feel compelled to say something, particularly something that will ideally make things better. However, as Brown stated, “rarely does a response make things better… what makes something better is connection.”
We can talk to our kids about how to show up for others but helping them comprehend tragedy is daunting. It will forever be a challenge to wrap our heads around loss. We want to make sense of it, but we struggle to fully process its finality. We also struggle with our inability to understand why. How can we “explain” the loss of so many people in our own minds, let alone explain it to our children?
On another night lying in bed, this time with my 4-year-old son, he started asking about my grandfather, who died in 2023. He asked all the classic existential questions. I wrestled with how to discuss the concept of death while walking that tightrope of offering honesty without instilling fear. At that moment, all I could really focus on was hope.
I often think about a scene from the television show Ted Lasso. The head soccer coach, Ted, confronts a common phrase he has heard used relentlessly: “It’s the hope that kills you.” During a speech to his team, he states that “It’s the lack of hope that comes and gets you.” While his variation on the phrase was powerful in the context of sports, I would go a step further as I reflect on how we and our children can navigate life.
It’s the hope that keeps you going.
We can find hope in familiar places, such as faith and spirituality. We can also find hope in humanity. I have thought repeatedly about Fred Rogers (from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood,) who recalled seeing scary events in the news as a child. He shared that his mother would tell him, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” In the wake of tragedy, you will see the goodness of humanity shining like a beacon. Witnessing the kindness, love, and empathy shared by strangers can inspire desperately needed hope. We can teach our kids to look for these beacons of hope — the helpers, those who connect with the brokenhearted, those who empathically grieve with the hurting. It is not through words, but through the actions of helpers that show us how to lead with empathy and instill hope in times of despair.
We do not and will not ever possess all the answers. However, we can find peace in not having all the answers. We do not have to know (and our kids do not have to know) what to say when someone is grieving. We just need to let the wounded know, through our actions, that they are not alone. We do not have to be able to provide explanations to our children or make sense of tragedies for them. We only need to provide them with hope. We do this by pointing to the guiding lights that help us move forward with love and empathy.
Michelle Overman is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist in Austin, TX. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with her husband and two young boys.
