A beloved friend of ours died recently. He had been sick for some time, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, but for some reason, it did. It hit me like a brick.
I’ve discovered that I know very little about mourning, having been fortunate not to lose people close to me who weren’t quite old. Parenting and mourning has been a hard combination, but also good in some ways. These kids loved Danny too, cried for him too, were sad looking at videos we’d saved of them all over the years too.
And while I made zero preparations/arrangements for my own mourning process, I had a high stack of kids books about death and mourning on hold at our public library. While I know these books were welcomed by the kids, they actually helped me immensely. Three in particular.
Here are the top ten books we read about death.
Le coeur et la bouteille. Écrit par Oliver Jeffers. (traduit de l’anglais The Heart And The Bottle).
Un de mes préférés. La douce simplicité caractéristique des textes de Jeffers, accompagnés de belles illustrations qui montrent le côté poétique et très factuelle de la curiosité, de l’amour, du partage, des découvertes, et ensuite du vide, de l’incertitude, de l’absence.
The Goodbye Book. Written and Illustrated by Todd Parr.
Sometimes the consistency of Todd Parr is comforting. I especially appreciated the opening lines « It’s hard to say goodbye to someone. You might not know what to feel. » The book breaks down the stages of grief in a small way and while it doesn’t necessarily do justice to the non-linear quality of grieving, it is a kids book and the kids found that a-okay.
Le petit livre de la mort et de la vie. Écrit par Delphine Saulnière, illustré par Rémi Saillard.
De ce livre, écrit sous forme de question et réponse, j’apprécie tout particulièrement les questions simples, les réponses généreuses et la reconnaissance et l’inclusion de différentes croyances et religions. Un livre philosophique et authentique comme les enfants.
The Dead Bird. Written by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Christian Robinson.
I got this book from the library before I started looking for books about death and the mourning of good friends. It’s a delightful book and a lovely story about kids trying on and practicing the rituals and ceremony around death that they’ve encountered–the singing of songs, wrapping of bodies, writing on stones, walking in processions, and the grave tending. It’s matter-of-fact and authentic, like children. For my farm kids, for whom death itself is not very troubling, this book was a good introduction into rituals around dying, which they are less familiar with.
Au revoir Hippo. Écrit par Simon Puttock, illustré par Alison Bartlett.
Un livre qui touche spécifiquement à la mort d’un ami proche, quoiqu’un ami âgé. Dans l’histoire Hippo et Singe sont meilleurs amis, Hippo raconte à chaque soir des histoires à Singe, qui à son tour, la fait rire. Un jour Hippo dit à Singe qu’elle est fatiguée et le temps de sa mort approche. Singe est outré, incrédule, et finalement triste. Il passe beaucoup de temps seul avant d’être ouvert à la présence, au confort et à la chaleur de caméléon.
The FUNeral. Written and illustrated by Matt James.
I expected more from this one. It’s the story of a child going to the funeral of a relative she didn’t know well, where she plays the role of someone who is going to the funeral (« Norma was practicing her sad face in the mirror of her parent’s room. Though she was, in fact, pretty happy. ») After the church service, she and her cousin Ray go outside to play in a lovely natural environment, until it’s time to go home.
L’arbre de Tata. Écrit par Yu Liqiong, illustré par Zaü.
La tendre histoire d’une enfant et de sa grande-tante qui apprennent à se connaître lorsque la petite va habiter chez elle pour un temps. En partageant leurs journées, Tata lui raconte de plus en plus de sa vie, jusqu’à lui montrer son arbre et de faire allusion à une grande histoire d’amour. Quand Tata est mourante, la petite comprend qu’elle s’en va rejoindre quelqu’un dans l’au-delà, ce qui apèse sa tristesse.
The Scar. Written by Charlotte Moundlic, illustrated by Olivier Tallec.
This was the most touching children’s book on death and grieving that I read. A young child loses his mother to illness and navigates his anger and sadness as he gets used to life solo with his father–focusing on the way his mother made honey zigzags on his bread, her smell, the way she had of comforting him. A very touching read. (That said, I’m grateful that the children’s librarian I spoke to made sure to tell me that unless the person who died was a child’s parents it’s usually best not to read books where it’s parents who die, so I read this one solo.).
Le grand coeur de madame Lili. Écrit par Gilles Tibo, illustré par Irene Luxbacher.
Un beau livre à propos d’une grande bricoleuse au grand coeur qui prend le temps à chaque matin de se rendre au parc pour réparer les jouets, les vêtements et les parapluies brisés des gens qui s’y trouvent. Un jour, elle voit un enfant qui pleure et pleure de tristesse. Elle se rend compte qu’elle peut réparer aussi les coeurs brisés avec de la tendresse, des berceuses et de la patience. Un matin, son canari adoré meurt. Elle arrive au parc toute bouleversée et raconte la mort de son oiseau. Plus tard, les enfants reviennent au parc en chantant et portant des dessins d’oiseau. J’ai apprécié le message d’entraide dans le deuil dans ce livre.
Cry, Heart, But Never Break. Written by Glenn Ringtved, illustrated by Charlotte Pardi.
I didn’t expect to like this one as I usually find personifications of death too macabre and too sombre, especially in children’t books/films, but this one was one of my very favourites. When the children see Death arrive at their door, suspecting that s/he has come to take their grandmother, they stall the visitor by offering cup upon cup of coffee. Death, understanding the ruse, tells the four children a story in which the twin siblings Sorrow and Grief who live on the bottom of the hills, one day meet the twin siblings Joy and Delight who live on top of the hills. Both pairs had felt that there was something missing, somehow.
(My only critique is the very unoriginal heteronormativity in the text.)
Once they meet, Sorrow and Delight instantly connect, as do Grief and Joy. « Each couldn’t live without the other. » The kids get it, let Death come, and then they grieve. And they lived with their joy and their sorrow.
A reminder I needed.