I recently attended the funeral of my former therapist, Adele. She lived a full life of 97 years. In the tributes shared during the service, I learned that when she was 6 years old, her mother died. The adults around her told Adele that her mother had “gone away.” Very few details were offered, including the use of the word “died.” I can only imagine that, as a young child, she was left to fill in the gaps herself using imagination and a brain not equipped to make sense of it all. It spurred her to be a lifelong truth-teller. No topic, according to one grandchild, was off limits; she knew what it felt like to be kept in the dark.

As a child therapist, I have spent my career thinking about how to talk with children about hard things — from family and community tragedies to global crises. I have spoken with kindergarteners about death, second graders about addiction, middle schoolers about oppression, and high schoolers about almost everything. I come away from each of these conversations with an ever-deepening respect for children. Their words confirm that they often knew more than I thought they did and that their ability to understand their own truths is much more profound than we sometimes give them credit for.

I also understand why adults want to shield children. The risk of emotional overwhelm — for them and for us — is always there. Experiencing our children in pain is one of the most difficult parts of parenting. Yet, when I ask adults if they knew more as children than their parents realized, almost everyone nods.

Children are remarkably equipped — with our guidance and sometimes without — to work things out if we pay attention to who they are and what they need.

These days, I turn on the television and struggle to make sense of the images. I think about what children might be feeling about them and wonder what it is like to grow up now with constant access to more information — both accurate and false — than I could have imagined in my youth.

Recently, a friend shared about his 4th grader: “Hey everyone, check in with your kids. It turns out [my child] has been a lot more tuned into the news than we realized, and he was really scared… And I bet he’s not the only one struggling.” My friend is right.

I won’t tell you exactly what to say to your child about every topic. Each child I’ve met has been different, and honest conversations must reflect their individual capabilities. But I can offer guiding principles that have helped me over the years:

  1. Consider the developmental stage. A child’s emotional and cognitive development may not match their chronological age. Some children can process complex ideas earlier than others.
  2. Time and distance are abstract. Young children may experience televised events as happening nearby, even when they are far away. Repeated news loops can make events feel like they are happening over and over.
  3. Acknowledge access to information. Even if your child is not exposed to it at home, they may hear it from peers or elsewhere.
  4. Start with what they know. Ask questions like: “What have you heard about this?” and “What would you like to know about this?” Correcting misinformation can ease anxiety.
  5. Be mindful of your own responses. How adults manage uncertainty teaches children how to cope.
  6. Avoid silence. Not knowing is often scarier than knowing. When children lack information, their imaginations fill the gaps. They may blame themselves for things beyond their control.
  7. Support safety. Safety is a feeling, not a promise. Ask what might help them feel safe and tell them what you are doing to protect them.
  8. Encourage agency. In hard situations, a sense of agency can feel impossible. Think about small things your child can do to help. This can restore a sense of control.
  9. Use real words. Words like war and death are appropriate when used thoughtfully. I wonder what Adele’s experience might have been if the word “died” had been used?
  10. “I don’t know.” It is OK to say that you don’t have the answer and that you will try to find the information.

Often, these conversations are simpler than adults expect. Children may nod, cry, ask a few questions — and then return to their activities. What matters most is that they know you are willing to talk.

When we face hard truths with children rather than avoiding them, we send a powerful message: you can come to me with difficult things. In my experience, withholding the truth rarely helps in the long run.

I learned a lot from my former therapist, Adele. I hope that her early experience can remind us all how important the truth can be and how ready our children are to hear it.

Alice Barber is a child therapist at The Children’s Clinic of Cutchins Programs for Children and Families, and is the author of “Blue Butterfly Open: Moments from A Child Therapy Practice.” She lives in Easthampton.