‘Kids just need loving adults to show up’

“Sometimes kids just need loving adults to show up.” - Faith Shelley

Those are my wife’s words. Not mine. 

She’s brilliant. Kind-hearted. Empathic. Wise. She’s also a psychotherapist and mental health clinician in the elementary school system. She knows first hand the trials and traumas of our most vulnerable. She knows what kids face on a daily basis. And she consistently reminds me of my role on this planet. Be a good human; help other humans. 

She is always driving me to be better. 

Most of my best ideas come from her.

‘But I’m not a professional,’ I whined.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘That’s not what this project is about!’ 

For context, I was in the draft stages of my second ‘your friendly pocket book.’ One of several in a series of storying journals I’ve been working on these past months. ‘Cool.’ you say. ‘Wait,’ you pause. ‘What’s a storying journal?’ Great question. Glad you asked! 

In the early months of the pandemic (which feels like a thousand nightmarish sleeps ago) I had written a book for kids to help them deal with their big feelings about COVID-19. I called it your friendly pocket book (your friendly pocket book: a storying journal for life in the new normal to be exact). It was a story filled with pictures and dialogue and a loose plot. It was also a journal. Meant to be marked on, scribbled in, drawn all over. Written in a friendly voice, the book actually spoke to its reader, as it were a living thing. In short, the book was a friendly storying journal. Does that make sense? 

(And yes. You guessed it. My wife was the inspiration for that project too.)

To my surprise, my little pocket book had both commercial and social success. I sold hundreds of copies and was able to help facilitate many meaningful conversations between kids and loving adults. To my delight, my meagre talents had actually helped kids (!). I was hooked. I wanted to write more. Start a series. Get as many your friendly pocket books out into the world and help as many kids as possible with as many different topics that I could. I made a list and checked it twice. My plan was to write on ADHD, anxiety, depression, life goals, fears, separation and divorce, bullying… and death. 

Death. 

The most serious of serious topics. A topic most of us don’t want to face. Talk about. Work through. Acknowledge. Death is hard. Solemn. Serious. And if I am honest, death was a topic I wanted to avoid myself. The original death related pocket book was meant to be about the death of a child’s pet. Not a human. Not a parent, family member, or friend. I wanted to ease into the issue. Test the waters. I have three kids and an elderly dog and it made sense. Get ahead of our own family’s imminent grief.

But these past months have changed me. 

I have come to learn the scope and severity of death in our community. Suicides, accidents, sickness. The more I learned the more I discovered the true scale of death affecting our kids. (Shamefully) my eyes had been opened. Kids were grieving all over the place. All ages. All stages. All kinds of unique and sorrow-filled stories of tragedy and loss. 

Death. Grief. Loss. 

A new priority hit top of list. I had to do something.  

So I started to write. Draft an outline. Scribble out images and notes and storyboards. My task was simple. Write a pocket book on death. Keep it under 800 words. Draw lots of beautiful and compelling images. Write in a friendly voice that speaks to the reader - literally. Give space for them to write or draw on the book’s pages. Educate on grief. Most importantly, facilitate a sacred space to externalize grief-stricken feelings. 

But I felt woefully unprepared. Woefully unqualified. 

How could my book possibly help? What could I possibly write? Worse, what if I wrote the wrong thing? Made it worse? Caused more damage than good?!

I sat at the table with my chicken-scratch scribbles and buried my head in my hands.

‘I’m not qualified to do this…’

Then I heard a voice. 

It came from a computer behind me.

I turned and looked and saw my wife sitting in an online training seminar.

On her screen was a professional grief counsellor and thanatologist expounding on how to talk to kids about death and grief. I was stunned. What serendipitous timing! I learned that her name was Andrea Warnick. One of the best in the field. She runs a grief counselling agency in Toronto ON (Andrea Warnick Consulting) Has a team of qualified grief-counsellors. She’s thoughtful. Engaging. Her experience unmatched. Her perspective affirming. And what I gleaned from those wonderful eavesdropping moments changed my entire project. 

Here’s the gist:  

• Don’t avoid the topic of death.

• Don’t avoid talking about death. 

• Don’t avoid saying the word death. 

• Kids know what’s going on. They are curious. Especially if someone they know has died.

• Kids are resilient. 

• Kids have tremendous capacity.

• Kids need plain empathic language not abstract platitudes.

• Kids need space to grieve and externalize. 

• They need understanding. Validation. 

Most of all - what kids really need - is for loving adults to show up.

Sound familiar? 

I realized that I didn’t need to be a grief counsellor, psychologist, psychotherapist, or professional to make a difference in the life of a child. I have a brain (sort of) and a heart. I am a human; I can help other humans. 

What flowed from that afternoon of divine eavesdropping changed the course of my creative process. I spoke with my wife. Met with Andrea. Discussed my project. Got her consultation. Wrote and illustrated my book. Sent the manuscript back to Andrea for review and asked if she would write me a foreword (which she graciously did). 

Show up. 

Be present. 

Care.

I am beyond excited to officially release that book into the world. Not as a perfect product. Or a professionally crafted document. But as a friendly voice from a caring adult who has done his best to ‘just show up’ for kids who need it. 

But there is more to this project than just the book. Another layer. Perhaps the most impactful. One hidden in plain sight. Hint: it’s you. Yes you! The one reading this article. You are the third part of the invisible triangle. The third component in the design! When you read this book with a grieving child it will take on a new dimension and reach its full potential. You will become the embodiment of the friendly voice. The attaching presence. The literal and physical in-the-flesh friendly voice. The loving adult who has shown up. Scooped up. Held tight. Cared. 

Without any further delay - I want to introduce your friendly pocket book: for grieving hearts. 

Available online at www.chasinglion.com and amazon in both the pocket-sized and large editions.

If you’re in education, grief counselling, funeral services, or the mental health field - contact me for bulk pricing. I’d love nothing more but to get this little pocket book in as many little hands as possible.  

And if you’re like me - just a plain ol’ human living life on this big rock we call earth - don’t shy from your capacity to show up and care. Your gesture of love may change the course of a child’s life. And there is nothing more meaningful.

-amos