Giving Back to You: Transforming Community Response in the Wake of Child Fatalities
By: Joyal Mulheron
Most times when Tori’s phone rings, it’s not good. Tragedy has struck yet another family, and she and her small team of crisis response experts deploy alongside law enforcement, particularly when a child is involved. They may hold newly bereaved parents and caregivers, plan memorials for forgotten children, or scrub floors to ensure scenes are less harsh and haunting. Her labor goes largely unnoticed. There are no headlines, and certainly no additional compensation for the compassion she dispenses regularly. And yet, for decades, she has quietly and silently helped make the unthinkable slightly more bearable for countless families.
Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of knowing Tori, hearing the stories she carries, and witnessing the toll this work takes. During our first conversation, she caught my attention because she so clearly articulated a distinction which many people commonly confuse:
“Everyone thinks trauma and bereavement are the same thing, but they’re not. I’ve received countless hours of trauma-informed training, but next to nothing for bereavement. When we arrive on scene and a child has died, the families and caregivers are often expressing bereavement with overlapping trauma.”
And Tori will tell you something else: responders often enter these moments of loss with no concrete knowledge of what to do or say, and without practical guidance.
Protocols for managing child fatalities differ across agencies. Communication breaks down between shifts, departments, and institutions. Schools struggle to support a grieving sibling. Hospitals and law enforcement may allow families to say goodbye — but not always. Faith leaders, neighbors, employers, and volunteers want to help, but miss the mark. The result is that responders like Tori — and the families they serve — must navigate overwhelming losses inside systems that are not yet designed to avoid unintended harm. And in some cases, they create additional victimizations, if not traumas.
The Systems Meant to Support Families Are Vast — and Incoherent
Each time Tori responds, she sees a similar pattern. Immediate shock is followed by a cascade of emotional and practical burdens: medical decisions, legal processes, funeral arrangements, sudden financial strain, and interactions with multiple agencies that may unintentionally deepen suffering. These shocks can become cumulative, making coping and adaptation to a death even more of a challenge, and for some, insurmountable. Research shows, for example, that bereaved parents who lose a child at any age are at risk of premature death, with mothers at risk of dying from both unnatural and natural causes, while fathers are more at risk of unnatural death.
Losing a child changes everything; often, irrevocably.
The network of institutions that touch a family after a child dies is vast: medical professionals, law enforcement, schools, employers, social service agencies, faith leaders, and more. But these systems do not function in a coordinated fashion and most have never been offered basic bereavement education. In my experience, most people believe that there are five stages of grief. Some question, why on earth does it take so long for their bereaved peer to go through them?
Responders, like Tori, see the consequences of today’s social norms. They watch siblings return to school without a structured plan or the ability to take days off. They hear parents repeat traumatic details to multiple agencies because communication is not coordinated. In some cases, newly bereaved families receive bills before they receive condolences. Despite the best of intentions and care, this takes a toll.
Shifting today’s norms for both fatality response and subsequent bereavement requires a social transformation — one grounded in shared understanding, consistent expectations, and practical tools for each person and sector that encounters a bereaved family. It is this tomorrow that I emphatically believe in; largely because I believe in us — all of us.
That is why today, on Giving Tuesday, I am honored to give you a new resource that the Evermore Team has been developing and beta-testing across the nation for the past year.
Making All the Difference: A Guide to Reimagining Community Support for Grieving Parents, Caregivers, and Families
In July 2024, when I received a phone call lasting about 15 minutes, asking if I could write a community bereavement response guide for child fatalities, I hesitated. What on earth could I offer that others had not? At the same time, I have long felt that descriptive reforms to reorient systems were lacking, so I agreed to try and help. Before hopping off the phone, my colleague said, “I’m envisioning fact sheets.”
Double yikes! Not only did I say yes, but now I also have to distill an entire ecosystem into a series of one-pagers.
But, I’m proud to say that’s exactly what the team did.
Evermore’s Guide titled Making All the Difference: A Guide to Reimagining Community Support for Grieving Parents, Caregivers, and Families offers communities a starting point — a foundation for a more dignified, consistent response for bereaved people. It lays out general grief and bereavement principles for 13 types of community leaders, from first responders to educators to employers to faith leaders. Fact sheets include practical tips, the importance of self-care, and other things you should know, like:
🚨 Spoiler Alert: The five stages of grief are a misconception.
The Guide — the first U.S. government–approved guide dedicated to community response after a child’s death — offers a practical framework for preparing communities to respond to child fatalities with competence, consistency, and compassion. It was created because people, like Tori, are doing everything they can — yet they should not have to do it without support, structure, or a semblance of a roadmap.
Most practical tips vary by discipline, but there is one constant for nearly all community leaders: use the child’s name. If you’re attending to a family and do not know them well, ask them how they’d like you to refer to their child. Ask how to pronounce their name or nickname.
If you’re a child care or afterschool provider caring for a bereaved sibling and need to call the family, introduce yourself quickly, but then say, “Your child is safe.” Then transition to why you called. The parents or caregivers will immediately assume that a second tragedy has unfolded.
If you are a clinical care provider, begin screening for loss, as bereavement is associated with many poor health outcomes and trajectories. If a family is living in a domestic violence shelter, know that alcohol use is a common coping modality for bereaved parents. While ensuring your own safety, work to preserve housing or other social supports during this turbulent time, but be particularly attuned to alcohol use, for example.
In addition to the Guide, we’ve generated a few more resources, including:
- Special Considerations in the Aftermath of Child Death,
- How to Talk to Children About Death, developed in partnership with the Dougy Center, and
- Top Ten Frequently Asked Questions About Bereavement
Over the next year, we’ll be releasing new resources and opportunities for the field to work together and for new leaders to emerge and champion change within their own communities. The social transformation our nation desperately needs only comes to fruition when people, like you and Tori, work together to make the world a more livable place in the aftermath of loss.
Making Tomorrow A More Livable Place for All Bereaved People
When Tori talks about her cases, like many responders, she refuses the moniker of hero. She holds onto the mantle of responsibility; being her neighbor’s keeper is her doctrine. This summer, I saw the same dedication across the country: everyday Americans showing up on our worst days, doing what they can, and wanting to do it better.
On this Giving Tuesday, the Evermore Team gives you this Guide and our dedication toward making the world a more livable place for all bereaved people. A tomorrow where local leaders, like Tori, arrive at a scene and know their community is as prepared as they can be — where communication is coordinated, agencies are aligned, and families are surrounded by people equipped to walk with them through unimaginable loss. With your support and care, this tomorrow becomes a reality for all of us.