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Do you remember your first experience of death as a kid?

Maybe it was a pet, maybe it was a grandparent.

I remember the first funeral I went to.

I was maybe seven or eight.

It was for a distant relative, someone I didn't know well, but they

were also a child. About 12 years old or so, she'd had leukemia. I remember being scared,

scared seeing the body, seeing my aunts and cousins cry, and scared of what happens after death.

My family's explanations for what happens after death

were grounded in religion,

but I didn't find their answers exactly comforting.

I struggled with the finality of death.

I had a lot of questions.

What's the point of living if you just have to die?

Does dying hurt?

In Western Australia, there is an organisation called Lionheart that runs grief camps for

kids and teens who've lost a sibling, a parent, or a primary caregiver, so someone

really close to them.

The camp is split into different age groups and for kids age

five to 12, there's a chance to ask questions during each camp. They're given a piece of paper

to write their questions on and then they put them in a box.

And then on the second day, those questions are answered in a session answered by a social

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