For many, death is a topic to be avoided. Don’t talk about it. Hide your emotions. Don’t cry. Be strong. Focus on getting ‘over it’.
For others, death is understood as a transition, acknowledged through meaningful rituals, or accepted as a natural, though often difficult, part of life. Even the language we use reflects these differences. We might say someone “passed away,” “went to a better place,” or simply “died.” We talk about “moving on” and “finding closure,” while other traditions emphasize honoring ancestors, remembering together, and maintaining connections with those who have died.
Acknowledging the many ways people think about, feel, and cope with grief can help us better understand our own experiences and make space for the experiences of others.
Making Space for Remembrance One tradition that has always resonated with me is Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead. Rooted in Mexican cultural traditions, Día de los Muertos is a time to honor and remember loved ones who have died. Families create ofrendas (altars) with photographs, marigolds, candles, favorite foods, and meaningful objects. Through storytelling, music, food, and shared rituals, they celebrate the lives of those they love and the connections that remain. I love the idea of collective remembrance—a shared acknowledgment that we are not alone in our grief. So many people feel isolated in their grief, and there is something powerful about coming together to say: They lived! We are grieving! We miss you!
In grief support, we often talk about continuing bonds, the idea that our relationships with people who have died don’t simply end. Those connections can continue through memories, traditions, stories, and the ways our loved ones remain part of our lives. For me, Día de los Muertos has become a meaningful way to nurture those connections and share them with my children.
Where It All Began When I was in grade school, I did a research project on the Day of the Dead tradition. I remember my dad taking me to the main Detroit Public Library. I can still picture how huge and fancy it felt, and how special it was to be there with him. The whole day felt like a grand adventure. Because my dad used a wheelchair, we got special behind-the-scenes elevator access. I remember thinking how cool the place was, with its grand architecture and stacks of old books! We used the giant card catalog, wrote down numbers to locate books on different floors, hunted down relevant materials, and paid ten cents a page to make black-and-white copies on a giant old Xerox machine. Talk about old school! I can’t remember whether he was the one who suggested studying Day of the Dead, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was planting those seeds of remembrance. He was intentional in that way.
Carrying the Tradition Forward My dad died when my kids were very young, so they don’t have memories of their own with him. Inspired by Día de los Muertos, we began creating our own family traditions. We made tissue-paper marigolds for our ofrenda, displayed photographs of my dad and grandparents, colored pictures for them, revisited favorite books and movies, and enjoyed favorite foods (tamales!) and music.
These rituals became opportunities to tell my children how much I love and miss my dad, and how much he loved them. They helped my children get to know someone they barely had the chance to know themselves. Unfortunately, over the years, we’ve added many more photographs to our ofrenda. Each one represents someone we love and miss, another story to tell, another connection to honor.
Recently, my daughter texted me asking for family photographs for the ofrenda in her college dorm room. I couldn’t help but smile. It was so sweet to see that the tradition, and the connections it represents, had become meaningful to her, too. Something that began as a childhood research project, and later became a way to remember my dad, was now something my daughter was choosing to carry forward on her own. I can imagine all my children continuing these traditions in their own ways. And I recognize that someday, inevitably, my photograph will be on their ofrendas. I can’t help but wonder what things will remind them of me. Which moments will be hard? Which memories will be full of laughter? It’s a bittersweet thought, but there’s comfort in imagining that the stories, traditions, and connections will continue.
What Our Children Learn From How We Grieve
As parents and caregivers, we naturally want to protect our children from pain. We want to know how to support them through grief, both now and throughout their lives. But as we know all too well, we cannot clear their paths of loss.
What we can do is create space for grief in our families. We can acknowledge the people we miss, share stories, laugh at favorite memories, and let our children see that sadness is not something we have to hide. My kids have seen me with tears in my eyes saying, “I’m really missing my dad today.”
They’ve also heard plenty of stories about his humor and craziness. They’ve seen that remembering someone can bring both laughter and tears, sometimes in the very same moment.
We can also show our children what it looks like to care for ourselves on difficult days, to reach out to others, and to find meaningful ways to stay connected. We don’t need to have all the answers or always know the right thing to say. Sometimes simply acknowledging our feelings creates an opening for conversation.
Of course, every child grieves differently. Some may find comfort in traditions and storytelling, while others may prefer quieter or more private ways of remembering. Giving children opportunities to participate, without pressure or expectations, allows them to discover what feels meaningful to them.
Will all of this make them less affected by loss? I don’t think so. You can have all the knowledge, tools, and support, and it is still so hard. But I hope my children will understand that grief is a natural response to loving someone. That there is no single right way to feel or cope. That they can seek support when they need it, find what works for them, and continue to feel connected to the people they love. Perhaps most importantly, I hope they know they don’t have to grieve alone.
Helping Children Make Space for Grief.
We don’t have to wait until a significant loss occurs to begin conversations about death and grief. Everyday experiences offer opportunities to build understanding, develop emotional language, and model compassion. Here are a few ways parents and caregivers can help:
Build their grief vocabulary.
Acknowledge the experiences of grief already happening around them, whether it’s the death of a neighbor, a friend’s grandparent, or someone in your community. Talk about how we support people who are grieving.
For example: “I’m sending a card because my coworker’s father died. We do that to let people know we’re thinking of them and that we care.”
Using clear, age-appropriate language about death can also help children understand what has happened and feel more comfortable asking questions.
Model your own grief and coping strategies.
Let children see that remembering someone can bring different emotions, and that there are ways to care for ourselves when those feelings arise.
For example:
- “I heard a song that reminded me of Grandpa today, and it made me feel ______.”
- “I was feeling sad today, so I went for a walk and called a friend.”
Sharing our experiences can help normalize grief while reassuring children that adults have ways to manage difficult feelings and seek support.
Use books and movies to start conversations.
Stories offer natural opportunities to explore grief, feelings, and the different ways people respond to loss. Some questions to consider:
- Did the characters experience feelings you’ve had before?
- What did they do with those feelings? Did it help?
- How did other people support them—or not support them?
- How were their family’s beliefs about death, grief, or the afterlife similar to or different from ours?
Invite children to participate in meaningful traditions, whether that’s looking through photographs, preparing a loved one’s favorite meal, listening to music, sharing stories, or creating a special place for remembrance. There is no one right way to remember, and traditions can change as children grow. The important thing is creating opportunities for connection while allowing each family member to participate in ways that feel comfortable.
Grief Resources & Personal Favorites
Favorite grief podcast: All There Is with Anderson Cooper
Conversations with people about their experiences of grief, along with Anderson’s reflections on his own losses. I especially appreciate its reminder that wherever we are in our grief, we are not alone.
Favorite grief resource: What’s Your Grief
Great, down-to-earth information and resources that help make grief feel more understandable and less isolating.
A song that reminds me of my dad: “That’s How Strong My Love Is” by Otis Redding
Music can be such a powerful connection to the people we love.
A place to learn more about Día de los Muertos ofrendas: Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA)
The DIA has featured beautiful community ofrenda exhibitions that offer opportunities to learn about the tradition and the stories behind these meaningful displays.
My dad’s favorite tamales: Tamaleria Nuevo Leon.
Because sometimes remembrance is as simple as sharing someone’s favorite food. 2669 W Vernor Hwy Detroit, MI 48216
Sometimes remembering looks like a photograph on an ofrenda. Sometimes it’s a favorite song, a familiar food, or a story told for the hundredth time. And sometimes it’s a daughter asking for family photographs so she can continue a tradition in her college dorm.
We remember. We share their stories. We carry them with us.