Edna St. Vincent Millay set the stage for the time-tested myths surrounding children’s grief.

“Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.”  

How we wish that were true. But in reality, children are exposed to all kinds of losses. As a therapist, I counsel families who are forever changed by personal tragedies. In some cases, their private losses are also very public—the crash of Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland; the Gulf War; 9/11; Hurricane Katrina; and the coronavirus pandemic. My role is multidimensional —helping families learn how to parent grieving children with compassion and self-compassion, encouraging children and teens to find their voices, and supporting everyone as they listen and learn from each other. I have seen extraordinary growth and empathy as children and teens emerge whole and healthy from the most painful and traumatic experiences. I have grown too—every child and caring adult has taught me lessons I will never forget.

January 28, 1986. I had just defended my dissertation and was in the final stages of editing the manuscript for publication. My colleagues in education eagerly anticipated the first Teacher in Space, so I tuned in to watch the shuttle launch. There was a successful lift-off and thunderous cheering from the stands. Sitting on the floor with pages strewn around me, I returned to work. About a minute later, I looked at the TV screen to see the Challenger explode. I'll never forget the serpentine plumes of smoke against the blue sky. The expressions on the faces in the viewing stand still haunt me—hands clasped over mouths, disbelieving eyes filled with terror.  Children did not escape the tragedy unfolding on national television.  After all, this launch was for them, and many students watched from classrooms nationwide.  The frightening images were broadcast repeatedly, confusing the youngest viewers and paralyzing the rest of us.  After the assassinations of President Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy, this event is was added to the long list of global traumatic events witnessed by young people. Since then, there have been many more— Princess Diana, 9/11, Sandy Hook, George Floyd, Kobe Bryant. The fog of collective grief continues to envelop the nation, the world, and young people. They are not immune as they see and hear the fallout on social media in graphic images and heightened language.

Unlike with televised tragedies today, on January 28, 1986, few people were talking about how the deaths of six astronauts and a teacher could affect children, especially those who witnessed the disaster on their classroom TVs. I felt an urgency to contribute suggestions and guidance to parents and teachers. The next day I appeared on the Today Show and talked about how adults could have meaningful and supportive conversations with children about the disaster.  A literary agent saw my interview and suggested my advice could translate into a book for parents. There was very little in print on childhood grief and only one childhood bereavement center in the United States. Families and schools had very few resources. To fill that void, I wrote The Seasons of Grief, Helping Children Grow Through Loss, based on my practice and research.

Today there are dozens of books on childhood grief, several hundred community support centers nationwide, and an emerging body of research describing best practices to help bereaved families. In the last 30 years, I've presented to academic and lay audiences and collaborated with nonprofits, parents, researchers, and clinicians in and outside of the childhood bereavement field.