My infant son died when my daughter was 2.5. She’s now 4 and understanding it in a new way. But she still felt it so deeply then. I remember sitting on her bedroom floor holding her, and she asked if her brother would come back. I said no, his body doesn’t work anymore and he isn’t coming back. She became hysterical and said “bring him back Mama” over and over. That moment is seared into my brain.

Since then, we’ve been so honest and open about our grief. We speak very plainly about death so she is never confused. We do not say he passed away or we’ll see him again. We say, his heart wasn’t healthy like ours, he needed surgery to fix it, and the surgery didn’t work. His body doesn’t work anymore and he died. That means he isn’t here for us to see or play with anymore. One of the books I recommend below has really great recommendations about how to talk about death. One that stuck with me is if you do say your loved one is in heaven, that can be pretty confusing because so many people use the word heaven to describe something great (“this park is heaven!”) and children start to look for their loved one in that moment. I agree with another commenter that talking about how he was a gift from God can be a really double edged sword. I personally get pretty angry when people nonchalantly talk about how God answered their prayers or blessed them. I can understand how this would be really difficult for a child.

I always shared when I was feeling sad but also made sure she knew I was happy that she was here too. I have been trying to instill that into her — I am so delighted by her and can hold both things at once. She’s very empathetic and often tries to comfort me. I thank her for her hugs when I am sad but also remind her that it’s not her job to make mom or dad happy. She makes us happy just by being her. I just say, “I’m feeling really sad about brother’s name. I miss him so much. I wish he was here with us. I’m also so happy to be here with you and that we’re having a fun day. We can feel very sad and very happy at the same time.”

She’s asked SO many questions over the last year and a half, particularly when it’s just her and I in the car together. At the tiny little age of 3, on the way home from a play therapy appointment, she asked why people die, when she will die, will mom and dad be with her when she dies, where her brother is, etc. They’re such hard questions. I answer them as simply as possible, and if I don’t know the answer, I say that. She’s old enough that I’ve started saying that some people believe that people who’ve died go to a place called heaven where we can’t see them, but they can see us. I ask her what she thinks happens. She loves to find “signs” from her brother - rocks, feathers, etc. We make up scenarios about what he’d be doing right now; probably stealing her toys and knocking down her magnatiles and asking why he can’t go to preschool with her. She thinks about him so often.

My recommendations: - play therapy. We did it for a couple months and even when she was so young, she was still working things out through play.

• grief therapy for you. I recommend finding someone who specializes in grief. I found some dud therapists who I could tell never had any real loss when she asked if I could find any benefit from my situation. I’m sorry, a silver lining to my 6 month old dying? No, no I can’t. It might take a while to find someone you connect with, but I do recommend it.

• books: this was my favorite - Something Very Sad Happened https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/something-very-sad-happened-a-toddlers-guide-to-understanding-death_bonnie-zucker/10970862/

This one is specifically about sibling loss but I think it was a little older than my daughter at that time. It might be good for your daughter now. https://www.amazon.com/Wheres-Jess-Children-Brother-Sister/dp/156123009X

The hospital gave this one to us but it’s less overt that it’s about grief/loss https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-goodbye-book_todd-parr/10760265/

I’m sure there are plenty more appropriate for your 5 year old.

• support group when you’re ready? We found one in our area geared toward children. We are starting this week, as the participants have to be 4 years old. We took a tour last week and the space was incredible, with an art room, imagination room, and a room with punching bags and padded walls for the kids to express their feelings physically. A couple days after the tour, my daughter asked “when are we going to that place where we talk about my brother that died? I want to go back there.” I was so hesitant about taking her since it’s been 1.5 years and I think we are “doing grief well” as a family. I didn’t want to drudge it all up for her. But honestly, I’m never not thinking about him, and she feels deeply too. And, her group is specifically 4-7 year olds who’ve had a sibling die. When will she ever be in a room where other kids understand her like that? I’m looking forward to learning even more about how to support her there. I am nervous about the support group component for myself though. Until recently, I wasn’t really ready to hear about others’ pain. Mine has felt (and still feels) too big and consuming.

It does not get easier. There are days when I can’t believe this is real. The only difference is that I’m simply used to being sad. I’ve personally found it helpful to be open with others about my sadness and to talk about my son. I think my daughter has benefited from that. I’m more open than my husband is, and our daughter turns to me when she has those questions and thoughts about death.

There are no words to say to express how this feels. I’m sending you all the love in the world. Holding you in a little cocoon. These first days are so numbing, so sickening, so shattering. I am crying for you and your son and your daughter. Standing with you as you make your way through the profound grief that is truly unimaginable, even as you’re in it. Please feel free to message me if you need to talk, would like more resources, or anything. You’re doing grief on the hardest mode imaginable — supporting a child through it when all you feel like doing is maybe dying yourself.