Grief, dying and death - gentle images, charming little animals and bright colours. Do these things belong together?
Is it appropriate? Meaningful, even necessary? German scholar Susanne Beck has examined these and many other questions and has found answers that are both academic and deeply emotional.
Yvonne Dauer in conversation with Susanne Beck.
“The last goodbye is colourful” - in your master’s thesis you dealt intensively with picture books about grief, dying and death. What are the advantages of this medium?
The picture book has many advantages, especially for younger children, but ultimately for all age groups. Children today increasingly draw their knowledge of the world from media, because direct experiences have disappeared in many areas of life. This is especially true of contact with death. For that reason, the choice of medium matters more than ever. The aesthetic structure of the picture book allows children to enter spaces of imagination and to develop a more differentiated picture of the world. Turning pages does not confront the child with rapid image sequences that may overwhelm them. The child can remain with an image for as long as they wish, move forward or backward at their own speed and let the information take effect. In that sense, the medium responds far more to a child’s perspective than film or video games. It also contains another dimension of perception: it is not only seen and heard, but also touched. Experts speak of emotional, social and aesthetic experiences made possible by picture books, especially through reading aloud.
Are reading aloud and adult accompaniment indispensable, or should children also be able to engage with these books alone?
In principle, children can take picture books by themselves, withdraw with them and immerse themselves in them. With sensitive themes such as birth, death or any kind of loss, however, introduction to the subject and accompaniment by an adult are very important if the content is to be processed well. This is especially true when a child is directly affected by a loss. The context must always be considered. A child who has just lost a father or grandmother needs a more intensive and quite different kind of accompaniment than children in a kindergarten group who may be discussing the topic because they found a dead bird in the garden and want to know what has happened to it.
It is often said that children have a more natural approach to death. Where might adults learn from children?
Children’s unselfconscious way of dealing with the subject is rooted in their more limited life experience. They are open to what they do not yet know and therefore approach it first with curiosity. In dealing with grieving children it is important to remember that children take in what their reference persons and role models live out and show, consciously or unconsciously. In a culture in which saying goodbye to a dying person and their death take place naturally in the private sphere, in which the child encounters ageing and witnesses, perhaps even participates in, the procedures and rituals after death, the child can orient themselves by that way of dealing with ageing, dying and death. The book “Eine Kiste für Opa” shows this beautifully: the grandson chooses the coffin with his grandfather before the grandfather dies, an African custom that also reflects the old person’s life and character.
It is different when these experiences are absent. When death suddenly appears in a setting where it has never been part of everyday life, relatives can be thrown with unknown force into grief and into many open questions and decisions, such as arrangements for the funeral. In such a situation it is hardly realistic to expect adults simply to learn directly from the child’s possible innocence and create a different approach. What matters, I think, is that we learn again in general to accept the naturalness of ageing, dying and death and to allow the process of grief. The very concern of Palliativ-Portal shows how much the need for answers to these questions has grown.
Does that mean it makes sense to bring children into contact with such themes before a concrete bereavement, perhaps by discovering such a book together “in between”?
The relevant literature clearly says yes. It argues that preparation for confrontation with death should be part of education. There is no life without experiences of loss and grief. Since picture books can help with current or hidden psychological and social problems and with coping with anxiety, this can be meaningful. What is decisive, however, is always the child’s individual situation. Adults must introduce the theme sensitively. A small child has not yet developed a concept of death and must gradually learn that life is vulnerable and finite, that people can go away “forever”, that bodies die, decay and become part of a cycle, and that from this comes the incomprehensible value of life. Books such as “Sarah und die Blätter” and “Opas Reise zu den Sternen” address this very lovingly.
There are countless picture books on the subject. During your research, did you encounter books that you considered unsuitable, clichéd or outdated?
Of course there are books that from an adult perspective we would call clichéd. That does not mean, however, that they cannot contain an important message for a child in a difficult situation. Ultimately we cannot see inside children. Adults often prefer artistic picture books, and that is understandable from our aesthetic point of view; such books are important for children too. Ideally the child should help choose during the first encounter. Yet here as well the whole situation and the adult’s approach must be considered. Books that seem outdated and completely superseded are the punitive and warning stories of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which were meant to frighten children. They convey the message that misbehaviour, for example disobedience, leads to one’s own death, or they describe and glorify a so-called “heroic death”, for example that of a soldier.
Have there been noticeable developments in recent years regarding content, style or illustration?
There is a general tendency toward computer-assisted graphics, for example in “Gehört das so??! Die Geschichte von Elvis”. In terms of content, the range is very broad. Cross-cultural and interreligious treatments that are lovingly designed and narrated, such as “Tschüss, kleiner Piepsi”, are already available. A painterly and warm style is often preferred. Examples suitable for a first encounter include “Abschied von Opa Elefant”. “Tante Lotti geht in den Himmel” is photorealistic, and “Herr Wolke. Dorles Oma. Eine Geschichte für das Leben” is partly so.
Some titles stand out in particular: “Da spricht man nicht drüber”, about how Jakob experiences his father’s suicide; “Kleiner Fuchs, großer Himmel”; “Für immer”; and “Ente, Tod und Tulpe”. What makes these books special for you?
“Da spricht man nicht drüber” addresses the father’s suicide from the perspective of the son who remains with his mother and sister. Developed by experts in theology, education and psychiatry, it presents the theme very specifically. Among the books I analysed it is the only one that also mentions practical, including financial, limitations and addresses the feelings that fall upon the bereaved through prejudice and exclusion after suicide. The book does not accuse. It is honest. “Für immer” uses bright illustrations to find explanatory images for the inner states of a grieving child. Egon feels “as if he were falling” and as if “it never stops”. The other two books are artistically designed and religiously or philosophically motivated. “Kleiner Fuchs, großer Himmel” deals openly with the child’s question about where the grandfather is, in heaven, and about God. Each animal presents to the little fox, in response to his worried questions, a different image of God, and the fox learns that everyone forms an image of the one divine being that resembles themselves. “Ente, Tod und Tulpe” answers large questions of life and dying in a philosophical but very simple and impressive way. Readers accompany a duck who is visited one day by Death, who seems to fall a little in love with her. She befriends him and reflects on her life. Other books that are warm and loving and therefore do not frighten are also suitable for a first contact with the subject, such as “Nie mehr Wolkengucken mit Opa”, “Ist Omi jetzt ein Engel?” and “Abschied von Opa Elefant”.
Alongside this academic interest, you also have a very personal connection to the subject.
Yes. My husband died suddenly three years ago of what is often called sudden cardiac death. His heart stopped beating. He was dead immediately and all attempts at resuscitation were in vain. I have two children; my older daughter was thirteen at the time and the younger one was two. Because of that personal experience the subject was very close to me, although it was my professor who suggested it. At first I was sceptical and wondered whether I could cope with it. I agreed, and discovered that reading the academic literature gave me a great deal of knowledge and helped me reflect on my own grief and that of my children. Looking back, I am grateful for the confidence my professor placed in me and in the topic.
Was there a book in which you could recognise yourself?
During the research I came across literature on loss that considered a much wider field. In a grief seminar, earlier losses from earliest childhood resurfaced. I had always known that I had not been alone in the womb but had been a triplet. The loss of my siblings during the first months of pregnancy, something that was not discussed in the late 1970s and that mothers had to face alone, suddenly broke open in the grief for my husband. I mention this because death is often not the only issue that must be processed in grief. On closer inspection, several experiences of loss may rise to the surface. Other areas of life are often deeply affected as well; the social framework and financial side are just two examples. One’s whole previous life is called into question. The family system shifts: roles, expectations and tasks change. The challenges for everyone involved, including grandparents, children and siblings, are enormous. The effects can be tragic, especially when a young person dies and when the father as breadwinner or the mother as key attachment figure dies.
The picture books that particularly touched me include “Eines Morgens war alles ganz anders”, which makes very clear the mother’s helplessness toward her daughter because of the shock of grief. I experienced something similar and later spoke with my children about the fact that I could not act differently and apologised for it. We are human; our strength is finite. “Die Blumen der Engel” also addresses this shock, especially from the child’s perspective after the loss of a sister. The helplessness of the girl and her loss of speech show the massive psychological impact of accidental death. “Als Otto das Herz zum ersten Mal brach” touched me because it shows a very strong love between two children that physically ends with the girl’s death. My husband and I were bound to one another by such strong love that life without him is still very difficult for me on some days. I learned what the sentence “Love is stronger than death” means.
Your work also discusses theories of grief models. How did you experience these theories in everyday reality?
Looking back, I can place my own feelings within descriptions of different phases or stages of grief. At the beginning there was a strong inner shock, and at the same time a functioning oriented toward family demands and social conventions, which cost much energy but also stabilised me. Phases of denial followed, interrupted by phases of intense anger and torment. Even after more than three years there are days marked by strong longing. The first autumn and winter after my husband’s death were marked by a depressive phase. My children gave me a task, my family supported me, and exchange with others affected by grief helped me speak everything from my soul. It was necessary to accept the loss, to give myself to the pain of grief, to become accustomed to a new life without my husband and gradually learn to invest in new friendships. When someone dies, connections also disappear and the whole interpersonal environment shifts.
Did different books accompany different phases of grief, or were there favourite books regardless of phase?
The psychological and self-help books that helped me were by Roland Kachler, Robert Betz, Bernhard Jakoby, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, Anita Moorjani, and books by people with similar experiences, such as Barbara Pachl-Eberhard.
In your experience, do children accept picture books gladly, or is there initially a certain shyness toward visual confrontation?
Barbara Cramer describes extensive experience with this theme from her work with grieving children and picture books. My younger daughter was generally open to reading together, but she also showed when she did not understand something or when something made her uncomfortable. It is important to know that young children have strong imaginative power, so images of comfort as well as darker images can continue to work strongly within them. Children also dream vividly, and especially in kindergarten age imagined images and companions are “alive”. I therefore chose only books that I did not find too difficult. The accompanying conversation was always important, and when speaking about ideas of the hereafter it was especially important to talk about natural scientific processes. Explaining these is the basic prerequisite for any further discussion and understanding.
Are there rituals that can be helpfully integrated here?
There are many helpful rituals, as individual and varied as people themselves. General rituals also have their place. I come from a rather traditional Catholic background. We opened a “soul window” in the house, kept vigil by the cross and candlelight, prayed together, discussed the funeral and made the necessary decisions. Because my husband died very suddenly, decisions had to be made quickly, and I am glad the burial did not take place after only three days but more than a week later. That gave us more time to think. The walk to the cemetery was the hardest walk of my life. The gathering of many people who knew and loved my husband, shared mourning clothes, and familiar rituals and symbols - flowers, music, prayers, speeches and condolences - felt stabilising despite the emotional strain. Even in a traditional framework there are many ways to shape things. What matters is that relatives shape everything in a way that helps them.
Today there are beautiful family books about rituals and about the questions that arise around dying, death and grief. I also think children should be included to the extent they wish. My children prepared grave gifts, painted pictures and my older daughter even went to the open coffin after I had. I could no longer do it. I wanted to remember my husband as he looked shortly after death: peacefully asleep, even smiling. I did not confront my younger daughter with her father’s body because she was simply too small. I think that was the right decision; she was only two. A sixor eight-year-old child is in a different situation. Therefore the decision should always be individual.
The fact that we must die also causes us to create many frightening thoughts at a cognitive level. How can picture books reduce fear through their messages and their pictorial representation of stories from the middle of life - for children and adults?
There is often great ignorance among both children and adults, resulting from a lack of experience. There are lovingly designed children’s books that try to answer these questions. “Wie kommt der Opa in die kleine Urne? Tim und Leila wollen es wissen” and “Was kommt dann?” already show by their titles that children want answers. Their presentations and answers are child-friendly. Despite its honesty, the second book also has a humorous side. Ignorance and the feeling of being left alone with one’s questions, or being fobbed off with reassurance, are worst for children. The book “Papa, wo bist du?” shows this clearly. The protagonist wanders around searching for his father because his mother said he had “gone from us”. “Why would Dad just go away?” is the boy’s justified question; his desperate search finds release through truth and through the knowledge that his father lives on in his heart.
The major question “What happens after death?” is often shaped by religious backgrounds. What approaches do the books offer?
The question has to be answered on two levels: what happens to the body, where does it go and how does it change? And what happens to us? How are the grieving people? Why do we have the feelings we have? And is there life after death? Rebirth, life with God “in heaven”, and living on in the hearts of those left behind are all approaches offered by the books. It is therefore also a question of one’s own beliefs. But ideas of the hereafter should be introduced only after the natural processes have been explained, and always according to the child’s stage of development.
What advice would you like to give parents who are experiencing a time of farewell and grief?
In general, it is important to accept oneself in one’s grief as one is. Every feeling of grief may be allowed. I have experienced that it is more helpful to allow grief than to suppress it. What is suppressed will eventually break through. It helps to remember that grief comes in waves or phases and that no outsider can truly decide what helps us. We should not be unsettled by well-meant advice that is not really advice. With children, I think it is important to take much time for being together and cuddling. Physical closeness and conversation are especially important for children, whether small or older. It is also important to take breaks and do things that truly do one good. Allow yourself and your children every feeling of grief, including anger, accusation and despair. Do not be surprised by moments when you feel calm and are not grieving; the soul also needs breaks from grief, and one should not feel guilty for that. I read intensively during this time, sought conversations with others affected by grief, and accepted therapeutic help for myself and the children. My family and my true friends were and are my network, in which I am “at home” in more than one sense. Communities are very important, also because they allow children not always to be confronted only with the grieving parent. Mutual support is relieving, and when children have more than one person to talk to in the period of grief, that can compensate for much. Children should also be allowed to remain children and, wherever possible, should not be given too much responsibility. As in all important questions of life, the “golden mean” is probably best.
Susanne Beck | German scholar
