“I’m Here. I’m Cute Too.” — Remembering the Siblings in a Child’s Illness

When my son Cory was sick, everyone always asked about him.

One sad day we were at the mall and ran into someone I knew. The first thing they asked was how Cory was doing. Three-year-old Brie looked up at the person and said, very matter-of-factly, “I’m here. I’m cute too.”

a sad looking child

I remember her little face scrunched up in confusion. Her expression seemed to say, “Why doesn’t anyone ever ask about me?”

My heart ached for her.

In that moment I realized something important. Cory was the one who was ill, but Brie was living inside the same storm. She needed care and attention too.

I started looking for ways to help her understand what was happening.

I went to the bookstore first. I searched the shelves for a book about dying that might help a three-year-old. There wasn’t a single one.

I asked at the hospital. The social worker told me there really wasn’t anything written for children that young.

Later in Cory’s illness, we became friends with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, the pioneering psychiatrist who wrote On Death and Dying and many other books about grief and the end of life. We were featured with her in a teaching video at the University of Washington.

One day I asked her what I should do about Brie. I also asked why I couldn’t find books for children her age.

Dr. Kübler-Ross explained that most children do not fully understand the concept of death until they are around five years old. Developmental psychologists have since supported this idea, noting that children typically begin to understand the permanence of death somewhere between ages five and seven.

That conversation helped me relax.

Instead of worrying about explaining something she could not yet understand, I simply made sure she felt seen.

When people asked about Cory in front of Brie, I would smile and tell them how he was coping. Then I would add, “And Brie has been so helpful and strong. Isn’t she special too?”

Most people understood the hint and turned their attention to her as well.

The few who didn’t catch on were not worth the extra energy it would have taken to push the point. When you are caring for a very sick child, your emotional energy becomes extremely precious.

And then, almost like clockwork, when Brie turned five—she got it.

She began asking questions. Real questions. And she was able to understand the answers.

Today there is a wonderful variety of books that help older children process grief and loss. If you search online for grief books for children by age, you will find many thoughtful options that can help families begin those conversations.

That early experience stayed with me.

Just recently I wrote a children’s book called Cory’s Courage. It tells the story of a little boy who becomes sick and the lessons he teaches his classmates and friends along the way. Writing it was one of the most emotional projects I have ever completed. The illustrations by my talented illustrator, Mhae, bring Cory’s spirit to life so beautifully that I still tear up when I see them.

But the lesson that has stayed with me the longest is this:

When a child is sick, remember the siblings.

They are scared.                                                                                                                                They are watching everything. They are feeling everything. And they deserve to be seen too.

Be well. Be strong. Be kind.

Shirley