Your kid already senses something's wrong, even if you haven't said a word. Here's why the conversation has to start with you being honest first, and exactly what to say instead of "how was your day?"

Somewhere between first heartbreak and figuring out who you even are, teens aren't quite kids and aren't quite adults. Add grief to that mix and everything gets more intense. Here's what makes teen grief different, and how to actually help.

Kids are born knowing how to cry, rage, and reach for comfort. Then we teach them to swallow it instead. What childhood grief looks like at every age, and how to finally help kids set the emotional backpack down.

I'd never met my friend's mom. But standing next to her open casket, she made a joke, and we burst out laughing in front of a room full of horrified strangers. Thirty minutes later I was a weepy mess again. Both things happened. Neither one canceled the other out — and that's the part about grief nobody warns you about.

"I've got you" is what we say. It's not always what we do. Holding space is a specific practice, not a passing comfort, and most of us were never actually taught how.

Ed had severe osteoporosis. Edna's dementia had taken her ability to speak. Every day after lunch, he crouched down with warm water and a cloth to wash her feet anyway. I was their caregiver, and it taught me more about devotion, and its cost, than anything I'd learned before.