"I can do nothing but talk about Jan because it's a way of keeping him alive."

BarcelonaDeath is a taboo subject in our society, especially when it affects children or young people. This has many repercussions. Some are more symbolic, such as the fact that there isn't a word to describe someone who has lost a son or daughter—there are words for someone who loses a partner or a child who loses a parent. Others have a greater impact on the daily lives of those affected. For example, when a person loses a son or daughter, they can take two days of leave from work. The same number of days as leave for moving and far fewer than the 15 days of leave for a wedding. Another reflection is the limited support that families grieving the death of a child receive from the public system. Mireia Rosés lost her six-year-old son, Jan, in June 2024. She recalls that at the Parc Taulí Hospital in Sabadell, where he died, a child psychologist saw her and her husband a couple of times, but couldn't provide follow-up care. At their local primary care center (CAP) in Terrassa, they weren't given an appointment until October, and they only had two half-hour visits with the psychologist. Fortunately, that same month they received a call from the bereavement support team at the pediatric palliative care unit of Vall d'Hebron Hospital in Barcelona. They were invited to participate in a support group for families who had suffered the same loss, and after the first session, they were also offered individual support. For the past year, Mireia, her husband, and their five-year-old daughter have been attending individual sessions and, in the case of the girl, group sessions for couples, families, and siblings. "It has saved my life." Mireia is quite emphatic when she talks about what this support has given her. "You feel alone, you feel like you can't talk to anyone because, despite having many people who want to support you and who do, they can't understand you because they haven't been through the same thing. Until you find someone who has experienced it, you feel misunderstood," she says. She affirms that participating in these groups and in individual sessions with the team's professionals has helped her understand that she must move forward and that she can. "And it has helped my daughter realize that she's not the only child in the world who has lost a sibling, that there are other girls and boys in the same situation, and that she can share it," she adds.

How to talk to a mother whose child has died

Another manifestation of the invisibility of death among children and adolescents is palpable on the street, Mireia explains. "We don't know how to talk about death because we haven't been taught to since we were little. People aren't prepared to support someone who has lost a loved one, much less a son or daughter," she asserts. In her experience, many people avoid talking about the subject because they think that remembering it will cause them pain. To avoid hurting others, they tend to steer the conversation toward trivial matters.

But she calls for breaking taboos. "I need to talk about it, to grieve. I can't do anything but talk about Jan because it's a way of keeping him alive. If I don't talk about it, it's as if he'll be forgotten, and I don't want my son to be forgotten," she explains, her voice filled with emotion. However, she warns that when someone asks her how she is, they should be prepared to hear "bad." She understands that for many people, it can be an uncomfortable conversation. Nevertheless, she encourages them not to avoid it. "When someone who has lost a child says they're not doing well, perhaps they just need to hear that they have every right to feel that way. Sometimes they don't need a long conversation, perhaps they don't even need an answer. Just receiving a hug, feeling human warmth, is enough."

Professional support

The bereavement support team at Vall d'Hebron Hospital, one of the few in Catalonia, began operating at the end of 2018. A year earlier, the pediatric palliative care unit had been established. "We were providing end-of-life support, and the need arose for that support not to end with the child's death, but to continue with the family afterward," explains Carla Cusó, a nurse specializing in bereavement support on this team, which currently consists of three professionals: two clinical psychologists and one nursing assistant. They support families who have been through this unit, but also cases of traumatic death referred to them from the intensive care unit or emergency department, both at Vall d'Hebron Hospital and others throughout Catalonia, as was the case with Mireia's family.

They conduct individual and group sessions with immediate family members—mothers, fathers, and siblings. They currently support 52 families. "No grief should be experienced alone. It's important to have a safe space, with a trained professional, to be able to talk and feel heard. In the case of the death of a child, which involves complicated grief, this is even more crucial," says Laura Ramón, one of the team's psychologists, who explains that this support is a form of accompaniment to a pathological grief.