Notes from Grief Camp

Every summer, more than a hundred children come together to spend a weekend swimming, climbing and canoeing. They also learn to deal with death

- Mitchell Consky

In June 2022, four boys bonded inside a summer camp cabin.

After throwing loose shirts on to shelves and spreading sleeping bags on to sandy mattresses, a game of tag around the bunk beds quickly evolved into 'the floor is lava.'

These boys, between the ages of 5 and 7, shared a link they didn't yet know about: each had lost a father. And I, their camp counsellor for the weekend, had lost mine too.

But 'lost' wasn't the right word. As my co-counsellors and I had learnt from our training, being specific with language was imperative at grief camp. It was better to avoid euphemisms such as 'passed away' and 'lost, as they could inadvertently add confusion to despair. In a child's mind, when something is lost, it can also be found. Our fathers would not be found.

"Do you know why you're all here?" asked our social worker once the boys settled into silence. Afternoon sunlight rippled over the wooden floor we sat on. "To have the best time ever!" the youngest replied. "And to play basketball!"

"Yes, that's true," the social worker said. "But there's another reason you're here...Every single kid at this camp, including some of your counselors, had someone important to them die."

The boys looked at one another, unsure of what to say next.

The ensuing days at this summer camp in McKellar, Ontario, 100 kilometres north of Toronto, would be full of traditional camp activities. More than a hundred boys and girls would climb the high ropes, jump into the lake and roast marshmallows around campfires.

But beneath the cheery surface, this was a different type of programme. Here, a group of grieving kids—and the adults overseeing them-would try to find solace in the outdoors.