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Peace Monument, Washington, D.C. Grief weeping against the shoulder of History.
Other thoughts regarding Newtown:
How many parents brought their children to the wake(s) of their classmates?
I was eight years old when I went to the wake of a mother and daughter killed in a house fire in Waseca. The daughter was five years old, and she looked like a little princess, white dress and blond ringlets, in her casket.
This was not the first wake I went to–with Dad as a gravedigger in a small town, I went to wakes as far back as I can remember. But that one was the first child’s wake I attended.
I hope that parents in Newtown took their children to the visitations. Of course, judgment is key. Parents will know if that situation would indeed bring on more trauma for their children. But all things being equal, if parents were on the fence about whether or not to take their children, I hope they would bring them.
I went to a baby wake a couple of years ago–the infant of a former high school classmate of mine. This classmate had an older son who went to a local elementary school. Of all the people at this wake, and the line was long, I saw only one mother who brought her young son, Jaden. Jaden was in the same class as the boy whose brother just died.
Jaden stood in line close to his mom, hands in pockets, wide eyes bright. He was only six or seven, so I’m quite sure this was his first wake, or at least the first wake of a child. I thought about what he was learning that night: that we are not immortal, that grief exists, that the world can be harsh and cruel and unfair, but that we come together as a community to help those who grieve. I hope the brother felt good that Jaden came by to pay respects, to honor the memory of the baby.
And I wondered, where were the other classmates? How many parents elected to keep their children away that night? And why? The brother needed comfort that night. Imagine how much comfort he would have derived from seeing all of his classmates coming out en masse.
If You Have Five Seconds to Spare 
I am amazed by the people I know in their 20s and 30s who’ve never been to a funeral. I started attending family funerals at age 8. Still don’t care much for wakes, though– not a big fan of having my last memory of someone being laying dead in a casket. I go to the wake but usually just express condolences to the family, look at the photos and leave.
At least you go. A lot of people will stay away from wakes because they don’t like them. When you think about it, that’s a rather selfish attitude. The wake is for the family, who really needs the support of a community.
When my children were little a 4-year old friend was killed in a tragic car accident. There was no wake but we took the children along to see her in the funeral home. For a long time afterward they talked about it and would sometimes lie down as part of their play, and pose as she had looked in her casket. I think it was healing for them and they didn’t have to keep asking where she was when they saw her siblings. I can still remember Mother lifting me up to view the minister in his casket; I must have been around 5 years old. Death was a frequent part of life for a farm child anyway, and it was best to understand and accept at an early age.
Darlene, this reminds me of my favorite book, “Bridge to Terabithia.” Katherine Patterson was inspired to write the book after her young son’s little friend died. A main scene of the book is when Jess goes to Leslie’s home to pay respects to her parents. It’s very touching and tender.
My mom also says that about the farm–that death and life was commonplace and easy to extend to the human life cycle.
This seems wise. I admit, my inclination would probably be to shield my child, but your reasons are why we shouldn’t. Sharing loss seems about the only way to overcome it. Parents surely fear their children will be haunted by a service, when actually not not having any formal recognition might leave more lasting troubled memories. I remember a kid in elementary school who just disappeared, and we heard he died, but nothing else. Weird.
I’m speaking out of context here because I don’t have children, and I don’t want to be “that person” who has all the answers for parents! I’m just trying to think about what I would do if I were a parent, and I also think to my parents and grandparents who did not see their role to try to shield their children from life’s complexities. Of course, my dad’s job made it impossible to shield me from the fact that people die, in sometimes tragic ways.
How strange that no one acknowledged the kid who “disappeared”! You say you had heard that he died, which suggests to me that it almost took on the tone of rumor, and you kids weren’t sure what to believe.
Short reply, more later. Great post–
I think there has been a tendency in our age to think that we could sterilize life, as if germ-warfare theory could translate into a universal protection for our children, from every pain and sorrow. As if pain is the ultimate enemy of life…
I can understand the intent–who wants to see their child sad or in pain? But there will come a time when that protection is no longer possible. Parents can’t shield children forever.
I agree with you. I think people forget that funerals, wakes, and visitations are for the living. Yes, they’re hard but they’re a part of life. I think parents try to protect their children from this and want to avoid it as long as possible.
Thanks for the comment, Jen. I think the longer one waits, the harder it gets. What do you think?