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How can the fallout from the death of a
parent be anything less than intensely distressing for a child?10
Bereavement catapults children into taking on many of the roles and
responsibilities of the missing parent long before they are really
ready to do so.
“Parental inversion” robs children of
much of the fun and freedom of childhood. As they make the more or
less conscious decision to put their own grief on hold in favour of
supporting the grieving adult, deep and disturbing seeds of anxiety
can hardly fail to be sown in their soul. If left unattended, these
can seriously hinder the child’s ability to sustain mature
friendships in later life, and to enjoy life’s lighter side.11
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When a child senses
tension, hears Mummy complain about Daddy, or lies in bed
hearing arguments, she wants to do all in her power to keep
them together. She hears comments that make her think that
she must be the cause of the trouble . . . so it is not
surprising that when the split comes she interprets it like
this, “It's my fault. I have failed in my attempts to keep
them together. That message goes deep.” It is especially the
oldest child who feels this and who “carries an augmented
load of guilt.”12 |
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A young child who throws a
tantrum, or bursts into tears when a loved one leaves the
room, is protesting in the only way it knows how to do. If
this fails to bring about the desired result, the child may
become unnaturally quiet. This quietness often masks a
profound resentment, which may continue even when the loved
one returns – but now it has become a breeding ground for
rage and anger, and can cause the child to become
increasingly withdrawn or unpredictable when other forms of
loss come their way.
Matters often come to a head during
adolescence, which is a time of loss as well as of exploration.
During these years when they are preparing to leave home, our
children are already becoming markedly less family-oriented. More
concerned now with what peers think and feel than with our family
values, teenagers want to behave in an adult manner, yet continue at
the same time to do the most unadult-like things.
Hypersensitive lest they be
humiliated in front of their peers, and acutely unwilling to believe
that anybody else has experienced the full extent of the emotions
they are wrestling with, the stage is set for contradiction and
conflict. “Why did the teenagers cross the road?” “Because their
parents told them not to!”
No wonder teenagers react
unpredictably when further loss occurs. It is like throwing oil onto
a fire. Warning signs to indicate that trauma may be present include
disturbing dreams, along with emotional detachment and
age-inappropriate behaviour.
While it is right to do all we can to
protect children from the side-effects of divorce, separation, and
bereavement, we cannot afford to become over-protective. Young King
Canute deliberately set himself in the path of the oncoming tide to
remind the fawning flatterers who surrounded him that he was as much
subject to the laws of nature as anyone else. Trying to shield
children from all pain is equally as futile.
Adopting a “china doll” approach and
over-controlling children’s freedom ultimately stunts their
development. More often than not it reflects the parent’s
inward-looking attitude. Better just to try and maintain open
communications, and to pray that all that we have shared will stand
our children in sufficiently good stead to help them cope when
inevitable losses come their way in later life.
Perfectionists will throw up their
hands in horror and try still harder to control their behaviour –
but the prayerful will persevere in the hope that they are simply
“building their testimony,” en route to achieving great things for
the Kingdom. May the Lord give us grace and wisdom to know when to
intervene and when to remain watchful and prayerful – especially if
they insist on making choices that we know can only lead to harm or
disillusionment.
It does not take anything as radical
as a literal bereavement to upset a child’s sense of stability. It
was obvious to us from an early age that our youngest son, Dominic,
had learning needs that were making reading and writing immensely
difficult for him. To our sadness, he passed through the hands of
several teachers who were unable or unwilling to acknowledge the
dyslexia that was so blindingly obvious to us.
The heartache has been all the
greater because Dominic longs to read and write fluently, and feels
intensely grieved at being unable to keep up with the rest of the
class. It was a relief when a detailed report finally highlighted
the issues we had long since identified. Of itself the report does
not constitute a cure, but at least the matter has now been
recognised. He is currently receiving a limited amount of outside
tuition, but unless the Lord intervenes miraculously, he is likely
to continue needing help as he gets older.
When children regale adults (and each
other) with a string of problems in order to elicit sympathy, it is
often because they are compensating for some internal sense of loss
or inadequacy. Unaware of the real reasons behind these attitudes,
teachers may dismiss these children as “attention seekers.”
“Attention-needy” would be a better description – a label that
embraces an ever growing number of children in our increasingly
dysfunctional society.
Some of the losses that children
complain about appear relatively trivial to adult eyes. “The house
isn’t burning down,” the parent protests, “so why make such a fuss?”
Have we perhaps forgotten the heartache we felt when a favourite toy
got broken – or when we were repeatedly overlooked or excluded as a
child?
Likewise, those brought up in
Christian homes, where the parents’ hectic schedule kept them
constantly busy attending to other people’s needs, sometimes
struggle to feel God’s presence for themselves in times of crisis.
Perhaps they have an inbuilt expectation that God, too, will always
be too busy for them. This can undermine their sense of being
unconditionally loved, and leave them insecure about their own
identity.
At a still more serious level, how
can children who grow up witnessing violence and abuse in their
home, fail to carry the imprint of this into their adult life? Most
commonly this manifests in a crippling lack of confidence.
Sometimes, however, it can take a more sinister turn: an overarching
desire to take revenge, for instance.
This is the dark backdrop against
which so many are growing up today. May we help children to grieve
constructively by helping them to understand at least some of the
factors that make abusers as they are, without in any way minimising
the seriousness of their actions. |
