To add another perspective, I was a child who was obsessed with death. In fact, a good chunk of my childhood was taken over by worries about (my own, especially, but also others' ) mortality. It began when I was nearly six and my grandfather died. No one wanted to tell me he had died; I think my parents believed I was too young to feel any significant emotions. So when we next visited my grandparents' house, I walked all around looking for my grandfather and finally asked where he was. Someone responded nonchalantly, "He's in heaven." It was the biggest blow & worst news I had ever experienced, and yet everyone was so stoical and no one wanted to talk about it. So I, too, was outwardly stoical about iteveryone else was, and they were my examplesbut inwardly I was devastated and very alone.
I think if people had talked to me about it, and told me it was OK to grieve instead of making the subject seem taboo, I might have gotten over it sooner. Instead his death became an obsession. I thought about it every night before I went to sleep, wondering where he was and what "heaven" was. I even blamed myself for his death, because just a few weeks before he had asked me to ask my grandmother for something to eat (he was in bed, ill) but for some reason I didn't comply.
Later, this worry/obsession about his death gave way to hypochondria. I came from a medical family and used to overhear my father, uncle and their doctor friends discussing their cases, or cases they had heard about. But I didn't have enough information to put what I heard into perspective. So I became obsessed that I was dying from one thing or another. At first my parents were supportive and reassuring, but they soon became tired of what they deemed "nonsense." I was not encouraged to talk about these worries; if I did, my father shouted at me.
I must have been a difficult child to reassure, and was probably "pre-wired" to have these anxietiesperhaps in this day and age they'd have put me on antidepressants (?)but I urge all of you going through this with your own children to be patient, patient, patient with this. My obsession lasted a number of years, and dh would argue I am still a hypochondriac obsessed with dying. I don't envy any of youin fact, I myself DREAD discussing this subject with ds, and will probably make a bigger hash of it than my parents didbut be persistent in making sure your kids are reassured on this subject, and make sure they feel that they can talk about this subject with you without feeling brushed off or reprimanded. You all sound, though, like you're doing a fantastic job.