My Father died when he was only 34 and I was 8 years old. I am lucky I have memories of my Father but my younger sisters who were aged 5 and 2 have no memories of him just photos. My Mother and I perhaps didn't realise the importance of speaking to my sisters about my Father to give them memories even if they were "second hand" to include them in what had been the "whole family". It was many years later that we sat down and told stories funny and sad sharing the memories of the man who had made us whom we love and miss very much. My Father died in the 1950's a time when children were still regarded as seen but not heard and too young to understand to be protected but not included or encouraged to ask questions thankfully times have changed and nowadays children are included and encouraged to express their grief and talk about their loss.