by Cj Luddeni

Created on: May 28, 2009   Last Updated: May 30, 2009

I had to think about this for a few minutes. After all, children are growing up faster these days. Aren't they? No. Not really. They may be showing outward signs of growing up faster, but a child is a child. I say this from experience. I know a nine year old who is very smart, knows more than I did at his age, and understands computers better than I do-even though I was the one who originally taught him. But he is a child. He acts like a nine year old. He doesn't clean his room, he plays video games like they are going out of style, and he doesn't listen all the time, and sneaks candy when he knows dinner is close.

A funeral is a solemn event. It is finality; it is grieving and remembering of that person's life. A funeral is hard on an adult and is even harder on a child. Children do not necessarily understand that death is a permanent thing until they reach the age of nine, some not until twelve. http://www.ag.ndsu.edu/pubs/yf/famsci/fs441w.htm

All children mature at different rates. Little Billy, at ten years, may not understand the finality or the reasons behind death, or the reasons for a funeral, and may not be able to sit still. Will he laugh or want to play at an inappropriate moment? He is, after all, a child. . But nine-year-old Betty may understand that death is not a disease that you catch, but a natural occurrence of life, and have a better grasp on the why of death and the reason for a funeral.

As a child at eleven years old, my grandfather passed away. I understood what death was, and felt that I was old enough to go. I went to the funeral.

My final memory of my grandfather was of him lying in a casket, a blank expression shown on his swollen face. The nauseating smell of flowers mixed with a variety of perfumes, the dim lighting, and relatives parading past my grandfather, weeping over his body. I remember the overall sadness of not just myself, but of my mother, as well as everyone who attended. I hated it. It lasted for what seemed like forever. Being part of the immediate family, I had to stay to greet the callers. I kept seeing my grandfather in that state over and over again every time I gazed in that direction. It made me realize that it was not my grandfather anymore, just an empty shell. I wish I had never gone. All the memories of him doing things while he was living, the picnics, and fishing, every family event he attended were now overshadowed by the funeral. I am 47 now, and I still wish I had never gone

Children at the age of ten should be introduced to death slowly, either by stories or visiting family graves. They should be allowed to ask about it and have their questions answered honestly. But allowing a child that young to attend a funeral? I disagree.

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