Your child doesn't need to have the words yet.
We'll find them together.
Hearth is a quiet room where children learn to name the big feelings that arrived when someone they loved didn't come home. For families navigating loss — however it happened, whenever it happened.
For parents searching at midnight, grandparents raising grandchildren, and school counselors looking for somewhere safe to send a child who's gone quiet.
Every feeling has a name.
Even the ones with no words yet.
Children grieve differently than adults. They might not cry at the funeral but sob over a broken crayon the next week. They might seem fine at school and then ask if they're going to die too. All of it is grief. All of it belongs here.
Stormy
When everything feels dark and scary
Angry
When the big feelings come out as big reactions
Hidden
When the safest place feels like being alone
Remembering
When they keep the person alive in small ways
Confused
When none of the answers make sense yet
Missing
When they look for that person in every room
Longing
When they need to be held more than they can say
Growing
When something tender starts to return
Hoping
When they begin to believe in tomorrow
“You don't need to fix any of these. You just need someone who can sit with your child inside them.”
What actually happens
in that first hour.
We know you've probably rehearsed this in your head. Here's exactly what to expect — no surprises, no pressure, no homework.
The room is small and warm. There's a rug with soft geometric shapes. The chairs are low to the ground — the right height for a seven-year-old who doesn't want to feel small.
On the shelf: a jar of smooth river stones, a small box of crayons (the thick kind), a sand tray, a few stuffed animals who have seen many hard conversations and never told a soul.
The counselor says: "You don't have to talk about anything today. We can just draw, or look at these stones, or I can tell you a bit about this room first. What sounds okay?" Then they wait.
Parents stay in the waiting room with a cup of tea and a short questionnaire. At the end of the session, the counselor meets with you for ten minutes — no jargon, just what they noticed and what comes next.
The first session is about your child feeling safe.
That's the whole goal.
Eight weeks.
One small step at a time.
Each session builds gently on the last. There's no rushing to the end — grief doesn't work that way, and neither do we.
The Room Becomes Safe
We learn each other's names, explore the materials, and make one small agreement: nothing has to happen before you're ready.
The Story Gets a Shape
Your child begins to put what happened into words, pictures, or sand — whatever language comes most naturally.
The Body Remembers Too
We work with where grief lives physically — the tight chest, the stomachache before school, the legs that won't stop moving.
The Person Gets Remembered
We spend a whole session on who they were — favorite things, funny habits, the sound of their voice.
The Hard Questions Get Asked
"Why did they die?" "Will you die?" "Is it my fault?" These questions are answered slowly, honestly, and at the right height.
The Feelings Find Their Names
By now your child has a vocabulary for their inner weather. Stormy. Hollow. Prickly. Soft. These words become tools.
The Future Gets Imagined
We begin to look forward — not to replace what was lost, but to make room for what's still possible.
The Goodbye Has a Ritual
The final session is a ceremony. Your child creates something to take home — a reminder that the person they loved still lives in them.
Most families continue beyond eight weeks. The program is a beginning, not a finish line.
Not therapists in the abstract.
Actual humans with actual quirks.
Your child will remember the details. The stones. The tea. The way someone waited without fidgeting. That's the work.
Mariana Reyes, LPC
Mariana keeps a jar of smooth river stones on her desk for children who need something to hold. She has worked with children ages four through twelve and specializes in non-verbal grief expression — sand trays, movement, and art. She learned most of what she knows about loss from a six-year-old who taught her that grief sounds like the space between heartbeats.
David Osei, LCSW
David starts every first session by asking children to show him their favorite hiding spot in the room. He works primarily with children ages eight through fourteen and has particular experience with sudden loss — accidents, overdose, suicide — the kinds of death that don't come with time to prepare. He coaches the school counselors at three local elementary schools.
Priya Nair, PhD
Priya works with the whole family system — parents, grandparents, siblings — because she knows that a child's grief doesn't live in a vacuum. She leads the caregiver support group that meets every other Thursday, and she has a particular soft spot for grandparents who are grieving their own child while also raising their grandchildren. She keeps a box of good tea.
See what your child
might need right now.
Five gentle questions. No diagnosis, no pressure. By the end, you'll have a clear recommendation and a path forward. Most parents tell us the quiz itself feels like a relief — like finally being asked the right things.
Takes about 3 minutes · No account required
Free to take
Private & confidential
No commitment