It might very well happen that a child learns about death from fairy tales, where monsters die and the good triumphs. The death of these characters reassures children that all is good with the world: evil is defeated, and good prevails. Yes, there are turns and twists in fairy tales, and the heroes have to prove themselves, but in the end, we all know how the story ends. Nasty things happen to nasty people, and good things happen to good people. And children do take delight when the story punishes the evil witch or the monster is killed, never to return.
The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending; or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous “turn” (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially “escapist,” nor “fugitive.” In its fairy-tale — or otherworld — setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is Evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.
But picture books about death tell another story, much closer to reality: sometimes nasty things happen to good people. Sometimes death comes and takes away parents, siblings, friends or pets.
Othertimes children are merely curious about death. I noticed this with my daughter, who asked me a few weeks ago: “Will you still be my mummy after you die?” And before that, she told me a story of her own that started: “Once upon a time, there was a dead flower.” She speaks children’s language, creating hauntingly beautiful imagery by rearranging words in ways that we, the adults, might have forgotten.
Either way (curiosity or grievance), adults cannot afford to be squeamish about this challenging topic. Death comes all the time, and openly talking about grievance and loss might be too painful or uncomfortable for adults, even more so when little hearts are concerned.
This avoidance might happen because we worry that we might say the wrong thing. Picture books about death act as conversation starters to introduce children to the inevitability of our mortality in reassuring ways. Because this is what good children’s stories are: short books with big messages.
Of course, it depends on the child’s age and development stage how much we can share and talk about death: talking to a three-year-old will be quite different from talking to a nine-year-old.
Here are some books that deal gently and honestly with death.
Let’s Talk About When Someone Dies by Molly Potter – for children of all ages
An excellent book from Molly Potter, who has written books to talk with children about various topics (emotions, positive mental health, sex education, etc.) This book talks about what death is, why people die, how we react to people dying, what happens after somebody dies, or ways of positive grieving, all in a simple and easy-to-understand language.
No Matter What by Debi Gliori – for small children
A profoundly moving story of a fox parent (Large) and their child (Small). The story starts abruptly with Small feeling grim and grumpy, and as Small throws a tantrum, Large assures Small that they will always love Small no matter what. Slowly, Small surrenders to the immense love of their parent and ask one last question:
Small said, “But what about when we are dead and gone, will you love me then, does love go on?”
…Large (replied) “Small, look at the stars – how they shine and glow, but some of the stars died a long time ago. Still they shine in the evening skies Love, like starlight never dies.”
A book like a hug.
The Heart and the Bottle by Oliver Jeffers – for older children
A curious little girl, fascinated by anything and everything, delights her father/grandfather (not important who is it, anyway) with all her questions. Until one day, when she runs to show him her drawings only to find his empty armchair. She becomes lonely, and as the hurt is too much, she puts her heart in a bottle and wears it around her neck. And this seemed to keep the pain away for a while. But her curiosity and joy die too, and she realises that keeping her heart locked is no solution. As she can’t take her heart out of the bottle, it takes another curious young girl, just like she used to be, to show her how.
Tender images (like the empty chair from this story) make you cry and smile at the same time, and gentle words give some coping mechanisms for the unthinkable and accepting the loss of loved ones.
Duck, Death and the Tulip by Wolf Erlbruch – for older children
What a strange story, in the best of ways. It might not be for younger children as the illustrations and the text might be too sad or frightening for them.
A duck notices that someone, Death, is following it. Scared, the duck asks Death if he came to take her, but Death tells her he has been close by her entire life. As days pass by and summer blends into autumn and then winter, these two characters strike a friendship as duck and Death discuss life and the afterlife. But Death is Death, and one day, the duck laid still in the snow, and Death gave her a funeral.
For a long time, he watched her.
When she was lost to sight, he was almost a little moved.
“But that’s life,” thought Death.
or this adaptation:
As heartbreaking as it is, death is a rite of life, and we all have to pay its price. It takes a while, many questions, many tries and many fails until we integrate death into our vocabulary. Using books to start a gentle conversation about such a complex topic (I cannot recommend Let’s Talk About When Someone Dies enough) decreases the immense burden by attempting to answer the children’s questions honestly. And if adults don’t know the answer, they can say so. As always, children can surprise us.
Anyone who writes down to children is simply wasting his time. You have to write up, not down. Children are demanding. They are the most attentive, curious, eager, observant, sensitive, quick, and generally congenial readers on earth. They accept, almost without question, anything you present them with, as long as it is presented honestly, fearlessly, and clearly.
E.B. White
If you want to read more about some more recommendations, other articles are about: