Come together to embrace and be embraced by community

This past week, our Tahoe community experienced a tragedy no community ever wishes to endure. In a horrible and heartbreaking accident that has happened to good people in our community, the sudden death of a beloved 13-year-old child has left many of us shaken and grieving. There are no words that can erase the pain, and in times of profound sorrow, we turn toward one another—and toward our tradition—for strength, for grounding, for support, for the embrace of community.

This loss is especially painful because of its suddenness, its innocence, and because it touches so many—classmates, teachers, friends, parents, and many who knew this child’s smile, energy, and kindness.

For those of us with children or who care for children, this moment raises an urgent question: How do we speak to children about death and grief? In our sacred tradition and in modern psychological wisdom, there are tools—compassionate and practical—that can help guide these difficult conversations for both the young and the rest of us.

1. Speak Truthfully and Clearly

Children deserve honesty, shared in ways that they can understand. We do not need to shield them from the fact that someone has died. In fact, using simple and direct language like “died” rather than “went to sleep” helps young people understand the depth of what has happened and then work on processing reality in an age appropriate way; this helps them feel secure in their trust of the adults around them.

Our Torah, too, does not avoid the truth: “And Sarah died in Kiryat Arba” (Genesis 23:2). We do not protect our children, or ourselves, by hiding the truth—we comfort them by holding their hand through the grief and the loss.

2. Make Room for Feelings—All of Them

Children, like adults, grieve in many ways. Some cry. Some ask questions. Some become quiet. Some act out. Our task right now is not to fix those emotions but to make space for them. “You can be sad. You can be angry. I’m here with you.” These are powerful words.

In Jewish tradition, we tear a garment during keriah to express heartbreak—a reminder that feelings are not to be hidden, but honored. When a child grieves, they are doing holy work. Let us accompany them gently.

3. Create Ritual and Structure

In moments of chaos, ritual can offer children a sense of order and meaning. As a community, we will be meeting on Tuesday, June 10 at 5:30 pm to make space for this too. If appropriate, let them participate: lighting a memorial candle, attending a shiva or other grief ritual briefly, placing a stone on a grave, or even saying goodbye in their own way. Making donations or raising money for a fund that helps to support a cause that this child loved is also an option.

Judaism gives us a structure for grief—shiva, shloshim, yahrzeit. These frames are not just for adults. Children, too, can find comfort in knowing that their mourning has a time and a place, and that it is shared.

4. Turn to Stories and Books

Sometimes a story can say what our own mouths cannot. Jewish life has always been steeped in stories—of resilience, of loss, of love.

There are also books written specifically for children experiencing grief. We can read with them, talk about the story, and allow the words to open a window into their own feelings. This gentle tool—known as bibliotherapy—can be profoundly healing.

5. Remember Together

Memory is one of our holiest responsibilities. We remember all those that we have lost to death—their laughter, their love of biking, their joy in the world—not only today, but in all the days to come.

You might help a child create a memory box, draw a picture, tell a favorite story, or do an act of kindness in their memory. In Judaism, memory is not passive—it is a sacred act: zikaron. When we remember with love, we keep a part of that soul alive in the world.

6. Check In Again and Again

Grief does not end with the funeral. Children may revisit this loss weeks, months, or even years later—at their bar or bat mitzvah, at graduation, in quiet moments. Let us be present not just now, but for the long road of healing ahead.

In our tradition, we recite kaddish for eleven months, and yahrzeit each year. We remember because grief is not a moment—it is a journey. So too with our children. Let us be patient, listening, and present.

Friends, we will mourn together. We will cry together. And slowly, we will also begin to heal together.

Let us honor the memory of this loss not only through our sorrow, but through our care for one another—especially our children. May we speak to them with honesty, support them with love, and walk with them through grief as companions on this difficult path.

With love and mourning,

Your Rabbis,

Rabbi Evon Yakar and Rabbi Lauren Ben-Shoshan