Cami Thelander, Certified Grief Coach, Community Engagement Leader, Confident Grief Coach School
November is more than just the turn of the calendar. It’s National Children’s Grief Awareness Month — a time to pause, listen, and lean in to the truth that children do grieve, and that their grief deserves our attention, compassion, and care.
My story: the “why” behind the work
When I was 11 years old, my dad died from ALS. Four years later, at 15, my step-dad died from prostate cancer. Those years taught me something that has shaped my entire life: grief doesn’t wait for adulthood. It lands in the lap of a child, a teenager, a student — and often when the world expects them to stay “strong.”
I remember sitting in class after losing my dad. My head was foggy, my energy drained and my heart heavy. Teachers still handed out homework, and my peers kept up conversations about dances and weekend plans. I showed up — on the outside — but inside I was lost.
What I didn’t know then was that I wasn’t the only one. Research from the Childhood Bereavement Estimation Model (CBEM) shows that 1 in 14 children in the U.S. will experience the death of a parent or sibling before age 18 (Judi’s House/JAG Institute, 2023). Statistically, there were others in my school who had lost someone too. But because grief wasn’t talked about openly, I felt completely alone.
That silence — the absence of acknowledgment — left a deep imprint on me. It’s one of the reasons I do the work I do today. Because no one, child or adult, should have to grieve in isolation.
Children’s grief is real — and often misunderstood
Children and young people do grieve deeply, but their experience looks different than what adults often expect.
- During grief, children often “puddle jump” — one moment playing, the next overwhelmed with sadness. This is normal and not a sign their grief has passed (Winston’s Wish).
- Because their brains are still developing, children’s understanding of death and ability to regulate emotion are evolving. Younger children may not grasp the permanence of death, while teens might understand it cognitively but struggle emotionally to process it (Child Bereavement UK).
- Research shows that early bereavement can affect concentration, learning, and emotional regulation — which is why support, presence, and patience matter deeply (University of Pittsburgh, 2022).
Children’s grief may not look like adult grief, but it’s just as profound — and when left unsupported, its echoes can last a lifetime.
Why this matters for all of us who support the grieving
Whether you’re a parent, teacher, healthcare provider, coach or caring friend, this month reminds us of something universal: the human need to be seen in grief.
As adults, many of us carry that same experience — of not having our pain witnessed, of feeling pressure to “get back to normal” when our world is anything but. We may have learned to hide it, to be strong, to keep up. Yet deep down, we know how healing it can be when someone truly holds space for our loss without trying to fix it.
That’s what drew me to the Confident Grief Coach School. It gave me language, structure, and tools to help others navigate their grief with confidence and compassion. Through our evidence-based training and the B.R.E.A.T.H.E.™ Coaching Model, we learn how to support grievers — of any age — with grounded presence and clear process. It’s where science meets compassion, and where those who’ve lived it have transformed their pain into purpose.
A gentle invitation
If you’ve ever known what it’s like to grieve without support — or if you feel called to hold space for others in their loss — I invite you to explore what’s possible through grief coaching. At the Confident Grief Coach School, we help compassionate people become confident, credible grief coaches who can walk alongside others with structure, science and soul.
You can learn more about our certification program and community at https://www.healingfamilygrief.com/the-certified-grief-coach-and-b-r-e-a-t-h-e-facilitator/ . Because when grief is witnessed, healing begins — for the griever, and often, for the one who holds the space too.
In gratitude and solidarity
To every child who whispered “I’m fine” when they weren’t — and to every adult who once was that child — may this month remind you: your grief matters and you are not alone.