We took our kids to a funeral recently. I was getting ready to explain to them how funerals typically go, until I realized they’ve actually been to quite a few funerals already. And every time we take them, I think about how much easier it would be if we left them at home.
It is hard work to bring kids to a solemn service of undetermined length. The normal behaviors of kids– boisterous laughter, games of tag, loud questions– these all feel inappropriate, even in the church buildings where our kids normally feel safe and free to be themselves.
But as difficult as it can be, we keep taking them. Here’s why:
Funerals are how we teach our children that life is short and we need to use ours intentionally. It’s beautiful to hear about the lives of our loved ones– about what they accomplished and what they were like in their unguarded moments. We get to see pictures and hear stories from their childhood years which can help our kids realize they are already writing their own legacy.
It’s a safe space for grief. In our culture, we don’t often create spaces where grief is understood and welcomed. The first time I remember seeing my dad cry was at his mother’s funeral. This is a place where our children learn that adults have emotions and that it’s good to express them. If our kids have an emotional grief response during a funeral, we can help support them. And sometimes our kids have emotional responses we would consider inappropriate (uncomfortable laughter, anyone?). This is the time to work that out, too.
It’s a moment to talk about heaven and about how unnatural death is supposed to feel. The grief of death should naturally lead us to the hope of heaven. Our young kids need a reminder that this life is not all there is and we’re looking forward to something greater. They need the comfort of anticipating the joy of a reunion with those we love and have lost to death. They need to know death doesn’t have the final word and we don’t grieve as those who have no hope. We intentionally talk about these things at funerals in ways that will hopefully change the way our kids live their day-t0-day lives.
It’s a selfless thing to do. We have taken our kids to funerals of people they didn’t personally know well. We do this because we are part of our church community or part of an extended family and this is what you do to love and support the people around you. These rituals are moments of connection for all of us, even if we weren’t equally connected to the person that passed. We talk to our kids about how we do this as a gesture of love for others, not just because this is what we would most want to do. Kids need those experiences of sacrificing their own plans and desires for the needs of others. They also need to know that their very presence can bring comfort. We don’t bring them along because they don’t matter and we don’t care about what they want, we bring them along because they DO matter and they need opportunities to be included.
It’s a family reunion of sorts. At most funerals we’ve attended, there are lots of people we don’t normally get to see who will show up. These are people who matter to us and care about our children, but we rarely have opportunities to be together. Funerals draw us together and remind us of the importance of family (literal family, or those we love like family or our church family) and community. Spending time sharing a meal together, grieving together, hugging each other, are ways we create those bonds between our children and the generations before them.
Funerals need children. The family funerals I’ve taken my children to have always seemed to have this beautiful and bizarre moment near the end. We’ve grieved deeply. We’ve reminded ourselves and each other of the hope of haven. And then, we eat pasta salad, we talk about what’s going on in our current lives and the kids start paying tag between the tables and in the church lobby. There’s something so normalizing about the behavior of children that reminds us that life goes on. The crying newborn, the fussy toddler, the elementary school kids that turn any space into a place to make friends– they keep us from being drowned in our own despair and root us in the present.
About a year ago we attended the funeral of my cousin’s daughter. She continues to be a topic of conversation for my kids as they wonder what she might be doing today in heaven. They weren’t close to her, but her funeral and the messages they heard there have continued to make an impact. What could have been the most traumatic of funerals has instead been a beautiful opportunity for them to talk about the reality of eternity and a reminder to make their days count. I have heard parents ask the question, “At what age should a child attend a funeral?” or express concern about their child seeing a dead body or hearing about death. I have brought kids at every stage of childhood to funerals and have only see it be a positive as they are offered a safe space to talk about the realities they have always known to be true. We can try to ignore death, but our children are still thinking about it. Taking them to a funeral opens up the dialogue so we can be part of the conversation. I’ll take every chance I can get to teach my kids that life is about more than our present reality, but the way we handle our present reality may matter long after our death.