We Can't Shield Our Kids From Grief

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

“Shouldn’t we make a card for her when she rises again?”

My 5-year-old son took another bite of his meatloaf and waited for my answer while his 3-year-old sister continued to put mashed potatoes in her hair for fun.

Across the table from me, my 7-year-old daughter halted the fork before she took her next bite. Her sensitive, empathic, and inquisitive soul waited patiently for my answer, while my husband gave me the “this is all you” look.

I silently speed-prayed for God to help me find the right words in such a sensitive moment.

I knew there would be questions after we gently told them at the dinner table that people we love very much lost someone close to them. We would be attending the funeral together, and I wanted to begin the conversation.

The kids were too young to really understand a couple of years ago when my husband’s grandmother passed away. While they went to the funeral home and were a little subdued when they saw the casket, they didn’t analyze or ask questions and simply wanted to go back and find their cousins in the snack room.

But, at that table, I knew we were in new parenting territory . . . and my son’s question both touched me and broke my heart.

He had taken special interest in Easter earlier this year and seemed fascinated by the whole thing. Every time he came home from preschool, he talked to me about Jesus rising, about how he beat the bad guys and still lived, and how Jesus’ mommy was so happy that he didn’t die.

So naturally, why wouldn’t a 5-year-old’s mind believe if someone died, that they, too, would rise again?

Before I could get the words out, my oldest daughter stepped in.

“Buddy,” she said, “only Jesus had that special power. When people die, they rise to Heaven to be with Him. And then they become angels who watch over us.”

She looked at me and smiled as if she knew I would be proud that she had paid attention to our conversations over the last couple of years.

As a kid who sometimes gets scared of the dark or anxious in certain moments, I’ve talked to her about angels. I shared when I get scared or nervous, I remind myself that Jesus and my angels are with me, and it helps me feel calm and protected.

I told her stories about my own grandparents who I feel with me all of the time, and about the dear friend who died just hours after I was with him when I was 17 who— even 20 years later—reminds me he’s still here with me. I told her how hard it was to feel the hurt of them leaving but how beautiful it was that they were with Jesus and could watch over me, too.

She heard all of it.

And my son heard her answer to his question, too and seemed to accept it. He took his last bite and asked if it was OK if he left the table to go play a video game—his mashed-potato-head little sister sprinting right behind. My angel-story-delivering daughter slowly got out of her seat, came and gave me a hug, and jumped and twirled her way to join them.

I sat there for a second to process the moment.

I was introduced to death over and over before I even turned 20.

I remember my parents calling to tell us they were coming home from California because my grandpa suffered a heart attack. I remember the priest pulling us out of mass to tell us my grandma had lost her battle with brain cancer. I remember getting the call in the morning that my 17-year-old friend—who I had just hugged hours prior—was in a car accident and didn’t make it. I remember standing next to my grandpa’s hospital bed when it was my turn to say my final goodbyes when we knew he wasn’t going to make it through his stroke. I remember hearing my grandmother’s voice over the phone as she told me how proud she was of me—a voice I now know KNEW that it was her time, too. A month later, another phone call to my college dorm that another high school classmate had gone to Heaven.

And those are just a few. I have taken too many phone calls in my life with a voice on the other end telling me someone had gone too soon or without warning.

Those moments don’t leave you no matter how old you are or how close you were to the person.

And while I wish I could shield my kids from grief in their life, I know it will inevitably be a part of it. And I know we will navigate it all together.

Me. Them. Jesus. And the angels in Heaven . . .

We’ll all put our hearts together and help them navigate it. And I pray it makes them see the value in life, the pointlessness of grudges, the beauty in perspective, the appreciation for the moment, and the value of prayer . . .

The way it has for me.

RELATED: Sometimes Kids Need To Hear It’s OK To Be Sad

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Brea Schmidt

Brea Schmidt is a writer, speaker and photographer who aims to generate authentic conversation about motherhood and daily life on her blog, The Thinking Branch. Through her work, she aims to empower people to overcome their fears and insecurities and live their truth. She and her husband raise their three children in Pittsburgh, PA.

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

In: Grief

In his last years, Dad spent his days in a chair by the big picture window. From there, he could survey all the comings and goings of the ranch. He watched the weather, the dogs, and our Arabian stallion, Axum, galloping through the pines and calling to the mares across the hill. Occasionally, Dad would alert us that a certain dog had escaped or that a storm was coming in. He was looking out. He was keeping track. He needed help to move even a few steps. At night, my husband or I cleaned him, dressed him, and tucked him into...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

In: Grief

Young woman holding red umbrella walking next to canola field

Outside, the sky hung in a thick, dim slab, like a ceiling over the trees that stood crooked in the wind. Not the fresh spring breeze we’re used to in Florida, but the damp, cold kind that makes you pull your coat together with tight fists. I got there right on time, parked in a front spot in the almost-bare lot, and slid my violet boots with fluffy pom-poms onto the asphalt. I braced for the impact of the frigid air and tucked my body inward as I did a little hop-jog into the pub. Once inside, I let out...

Keep Reading

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

In: Grief, Loss

I lay in bed this morning, sweet boy. It is Saturday. Seven of them since you left. Half awake, I turned over and saw Grief staring right at me. She pounced then stood, haughty, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. She yelled that she would be close today. If she feels like it, she might even be relentless. She is cruel. You were the reason, sweet boy, for me to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. Actually, every morning you were my purpose from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment they shut. I knew on...

Keep Reading

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief

Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief

Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother. People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief

Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, Sometimes I'm Drowning and I Can't Ask For Your Help, But I Need It

Marriage

Dear Husband, Sometimes I'm Drowning and I Can't Ask For Your Help, But I Need It

Great Daddies Are Great Husbands First

Kids

We Can’t Shield Our Kids From Grief

I silently speed-prayed for God to help me find the right words in such a sensitive moment.

She heard all of it.

And while I wish I could shield my kids from grief in their life, I know it will inevitably be a part of it. And I know we will navigate it all together.

RELATED: Sometimes Kids Need To Hear It’s OK To Be Sad

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Brea Schmidt

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

We Can’t Shield Our Kids From Grief

I silently speed-prayed for God to help me find the right words in such a sensitive moment.

She heard all of it.

And while I wish I could shield my kids from grief in their life, I know it will inevitably be a part of it. And I know we will navigate it all together.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like