[garinda]

It's difficult.

I was seven the first time someone I loved died. My mum called me and my younger brother to her bed one Saturday morning, and explained that our beloved great aunt had died. We cried our hearts out. Children are tougher than you think though, and like anyone who has been bereaved, you slowly come to some sort of acceptance about one of life's inevitabilities.

As an atheist I tried to explain to a child, who had lost someone they adored, that life ends, but the love that existed carries on, in the form of happy memories, and those can last forever.