We said goodbye to our cat this week.
He was 15 years old, a sweet, scrappy, often grumpy old man. We knew the day was coming, and still, when the moment arrived, it washed over us like a wave we weren’t quite ready for.
My 4-year-old sat in the vet’s office beside her 18-year-old sister, who cradled our cat in her arms. We held him. We cried. We said goodbye together.
Grieving as a family stirred up more than just fresh sorrow. It surfaced long-buried memories of goodbyes I never got to have as a child. When my own childhood cat died, no one even told me. I searched for her until I finally asked my parents, only to be met with a flat, “You didn’t even notice she was gone.” When I started to cry, they brushed it off. There was no comfort, no closure, no space to grieve.
This time, we’re doing it differently.
We’re telling the truth.
We’re sitting in the hard moments.
We’re letting our children grieve.
Why It’s Important to Talk Honestly About Death
As parents, it’s natural to want to protect our kids from pain. But death is not something we can, or should, shield them from entirely. It is part of life, nature, rhythm, and love. For many children, the death of a pet is their first close experience with loss. It’s a tender opportunity to model emotional honesty and teach them that grief is not something to fear.
How We Helped Our Young Child Process the Loss
We kept our language clear and honest. I told my daughter, “His body stopped working. He died, and we were there to say goodbye.” I avoided phrases like “went to sleep,” which can confuse young children or make bedtime feel scary.
We included her in the goodbye. She stood beside her sister. She saw that we honored his death with reverence and love. That moment gave her a sense of closure.
We turned to gentle media for support. Daniel Tiger’s episode about losing a pet helped her name her feelings and see that sadness is something others experience too. We also found comfort in books like The Invisible Leash, which speaks to the ongoing connection we can feel even after a pet is gone.
We created small rituals together. We looked at photos, shared memories, and sat under a tree imagining where he might be now. My eldest asked to keep his ashes when they’re ready. My youngest made a drawing. Rituals gave us a way to hold our grief and mark his importance in our lives.
We allowed grief to unfold in layers. It didn’t end after one conversation. It bubbled up again while brushing teeth, during walks, or out of nowhere. One day she asked to see his pictures. Another day she simply said, “I miss him.” Each time, I tried to meet her there again.
Breaking Generational Patterns Around Grief
When I was a child, my pain was often dismissed. My grief was inconvenient. And now, as a mother, I see how healing it is (not just for my daughters, but for me) to do it differently.
We talk.
We cry.
We remember.
We comfort.
We stay.
This is homeschooling, too. Not the kind you find in curriculum catalogs, but the kind that teaches the deepest lessons of all: how to love, how to lose, and how to hold one another through it.
Loss Is a Lesson Worth Honoring
When we walk through grief with our children, we aren’t just helping them understand death. We’re helping them understand empathy, compassion, and the sacredness of presence.
If you’re facing the loss of a pet in your homeschooling family, know this:
It’s okay to grieve together.
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay not to have all the answers.
Your honesty is a gift.
Your presence is the lesson.
And your love is what will help them carry the memory forward.
