Death has long shown up in children’s story books in the West, aiming to help children better understand the realities of life and death. A recent example seen in Taiwan was the 1999 translation of the German book Hat Opa einen Anzug an? (“Is Grandpa Wearing a Suit?”), in which little Bruno sees his grandfather lying in his coffin dressed in his favorite suit and asks questions like “Why’s Grandpa sleeping so long?” and “How can he be in the ground one second and in Heaven the next?” In the face of death, Bruno is left with many questions and only photographs of his grandfather to remember him by.

“Grandpa the Farmer” uses rich lines and a monochromatic ­palette to tell a simple yet exquisite tale of the relationship ­between ­grandfather and grandchild.

“Death education in Taiwan lacks a certain localness,” says Hsu Li-an, CEO of the Zhang­qi­hua Culture & Art Foundation. Look at children’s books, for instance: Taiwanese children are constantly presented with the stories of blond-haired, blue-eyed Westerners. But death education must take culture into account, and books from abroad won’t help local children trying to understand why their relatives are lighting incense or doing other things peculiar to Taiwanese folk culture.

In order to collect stories to use for local death education, in 2009 the foundation began running a picture book competition. The winner of the first competition, “Grandpa’s Secret Signal,” particularly touched Hsu with its depiction of shou­jing, a traditional Taoist exorcism ritual, as it reminded him of his own life growing up.

“Grandpa’s Secret Signal” tells the story of a young boy who visits his grandfather one day and sees him sitting at the edge of his bed, smiling. The old man then takes the child out for a walk around the family farm before telling him, “Grandpa’s already dead.”

The old man then makes a promise to the young boy: that every time he hears thunder from then on, it’ll be Grandpa farting. “I’ll let off some lightning for you first; that’ll be Grandpa’s secret signal to you!”

When the boy tells his mother, she responds with a shocked look and an admonition to not talk nonsense, before taking the child off for shoujing.

Whenever he tells this story, Hsu always comments, “Do you think the one who should undergo shou­jing is the adult or the child? Children’s first experiences with death will generally be the deaths of grandparents or pets, but adults tend to avoid talking about it with them, answering the child’s questions with evasive answers like, ‘He’s gone on a trip somewhere far, far away.’”

“Grandpa’s Secret Signal” tells a touching story of a grandfather’s promise to his grandson that after his passing, he will let the child know he’s watching over him through the thunder and lightning.

Hsu grew up as a frail child who was in and out of hospital frequently. To help him grow up well, his mother took him to a temple in Zuo­ying, Kao­hsiung, to claim the bodhi­sattva Guan­yin as his godmother. Whenever he fell ill, he’d be taken to the temple for “treatment.”

“The effect of shou­jing is less on the children than on the adults that bring them in for it. It’s like therapy for them, and if the parents feel reassured about the children, those children grow up in a better environment.”

In the West, Hsu explains, people believe that the dead pass through a tunnel of light to the “other side,” while in Taiwan, the dead must drink Meng Po’s Five-Flavored Tea of Forgetfulness and cross the ­Naihe Bridge before they leave the oft-sermonized horrific 18 levels of hell to be reincarnated. Why shouldn’t Taiwanese use these folk beliefs as a way of talking about death, Hsu asks, and why not make them into picture books to make the discussions easier?

Formerly a family doctor at Tzu Chi Hospital in Hua­lien, the now 48-year-old Hsu left his work to return to his home of Kao­hsiung in 2008 to head up the Zhang­qi­hua Culture & Art Foundation and promote death education.

“Grandpa’s Secret Signal” tells a touching story of a grandfather’s promise to his grandson that after his passing, he will let the child know he’s watching over him through the thunder and lightning.

In the course of collecting books and training teachers, the foundation discovered that most of the picture books available in Taiwan dealing with issues of life and death were translated into Chinese rather than being original local works. To record local stories and help Taiwanese tell of their own experiences, in 2009 the foundation began holding a picture book competition on the topic. This aimed to build on a previous single-panel drawing competition on hospice care, started in 2006, that is open only to people in the medical profession, with the new competition open to the general public.

Hsu says that they didn’t have high expectations for the first run of the competition, because they required not only a story, but also a minimum of eight drawings in each entry. As it turned out, they received an unexpectedly large 87 entries. The next year they included an animation section and increased the minimum number of drawings to 16, attracting a total of 63 entrants. Each year they pick three winners and several honorable mentions and take them on a tour of schools and hospitals.

Overall, the bulk of the entries over the past four years have come from creators’ own life experiences, turning their feelings about and experiences with the fragility of life into touching images through careful linework and coloring.

Entrants can choose from a variety of media, including watercolor, ink, rubbing, collages, and paper-cutting, making for a rich and diverse range of entries.

Surprisingly, many of the winners have been amateur artists, like “Grandpa’s Secret Signal” author ­Zhang Chun­mei. ­Zhang was diagnosed with cancer at age 50 and began learning to draw a year later. After a year of study, she was able to create lively depictions of rural Taiwan and traditional life in a clean, crisp style full of childlike exuberance.

Her “fantastical” deal with her grandfather was something that she kept hidden until adulthood, when she finally felt capable of telling the story. From this, you can tell just how much of an impact her grandfather’s death had on her.

The second year’s gold medal winner, “Red Bean Milk Popsicle,” was the work of 14-year-old Chen Yan­lin. Using sweet popsicles made with adzuki beans and milk to represent her relationship with her grandmother, Chen writes of how one day her grandmother “disappeared” in the middle of the night, and how she never saw her again. She asked her mother, but her mother only answered, “Grandma’s gone on a trip to somewhere far away.” After that, those popsicles became Chen’s way of remembering her grandmother.

The judges stated that Chen’s overlapping water­colors expressed the story well, and her use of bright, clean colors fitted well with the nostalgic atmosphere and the telling of a child’s sepia-toned memories of her grandmother. Overall, they praised Chen’s detailed artwork and the uniqueness of her entry.

“Grandpa the Farmer” uses rich lines and a monochromatic ­palette to tell a simple yet exquisite tale of the relationship ­between ­grandfather and grandchild.

Hsu Li-an says that in many of the entries, it was easy to see how Taiwanese society deals with death: most adults simply don’t dare even mention it. When trying to explain death to a child, rather than euphemizing it as “going on a trip,” “departing,” or “passing on,” we should be more direct, letting them know that the dead don’t come back.

Teachers using children’s books to tell stories often tend to just skip anything dealing with death, or ask the children at the end, “Was it scary?”

“What they’re doing in that case,” says Hsu, “is taking what should be a complex, nuanced thing and turning it into a simple binary thing, ‘scary’ or ‘not scary.’ All that does is teach the children to think of death as something scary, and then when they grow up, they’ll probably choose to just avoid the topic of death should it come up.”

Even worse in Hsu’s mind is the impact it can have on children who grow up to enter the medical profession and become frontline doctors and nurses. These people, faced with a dying patient, may be afraid to tell them the truth directly for fear of scaring them.

“We all know how important it is to respect patients’ rights to make their own decisions, but how are we doing that if we don’t dare tell them they’ve reached a terminal stage? And if medical staff or family members keep hiding the truth, all they’re doing is robbing the patient of the ability to make educated choices about their own lives. It’s actually quite cruel!”

Through its contests, the Zhang­qi­hua Foundation hopes to push the boundaries of death education, encouraging the public and the medical profession to tackle the realities of life head-on by starting with educating the children.

“Grandpa’s Secret Signal” tells a touching story of a grandfather’s promise to his grandson that after his passing, he will let the child know he’s watching over him through the thunder and lightning.

Why is it that someone facing a terminal illness will only express their dying wish at the last minute, sending people rushing to try and make it reality?

Hsu says that most people think of hospice care as reserved for people in their final stages and facing death, but in reality, by starting earlier, the pain can be kept under control and patients can live out their remaining time with a reasonable quality of life.

“The reason the picture book contests aren’t aimed at terminal patients,” says Hsu, “is that it can be difficult to really discuss things with terminal patients, because they’re so full of conflicting emotions and may not be able to think rationally; only when healthy can we properly calmly contemplate.

A few years ago, Hsu expressed to his mentor, the late academic psychologist Yee Der-heuy, that he wanted to combine artistic creativity with hospice care. Yee was tremendously supportive, saying, “Understanding of the aesthetics of existence is something that will grow over time.”

Something Yee told him once—“The wisdom of life and the art of death are things all people should learn”—has stuck with Hsu ever since.

By holding the picture book contests and promoting the selected stories, Hsu hopes to plant in people’s hearts the seeds of a healthier attitude. When facing death, we need to let go of our sorrow and face reality, dealing with loss with patience and love. Death is not some unspeakable taboo, but rather a natural part of life.

“The finality of death can remind those of us still living to try and make our lives better and more meaningful,” says Hsu.

Many patients facing death remark on seeing long-passed family members coming to see them. In “A Vicarious Life,” the character sees his own life pass before his eyes, seemingly foretelling his imminent demise.

Many patients facing death remark on seeing long-passed family members coming to see them. In “A Vicarious Life,” the character sees his own life pass before his eyes, seemingly foretelling his imminent demise.

When facing the death of a relative, we need to come to terms with the sorrow at our own pace. “She Smiles” is a more positive piece, with the author remembering her cousin who died in the 1999 Jiji earthquake and hoping that she’s in a better place.

“Grandpa the Farmer” uses rich lines and a monochromatic ­palette to tell a simple yet exquisite tale of the relationship ­between ­grandfather and grandchild.

“Grandpa the Farmer” uses rich lines and a monochromatic ­palette to tell a simple yet exquisite tale of the relationship ­between ­grandfather and grandchild.

When facing the death of a relative, we need to come to terms with the sorrow at our own pace. “She Smiles” is a more positive piece, with the author remembering her cousin who died in the 1999 Jiji earthquake and hoping that she’s in a better place.

“Red Bean Milk Popsicle” tells of how the simple memory of eating popsicles with Grandma helps a child remember her, with the smiles on their faces making for touching images.

“Grandpa’s Secret Signal” tells a touching story of a grandfather’s promise to his grandson that after his passing, he will let the child know he’s watching over him through the thunder and lightning.

When facing the death of a relative, we need to come to terms with the sorrow at our own pace. “She Smiles” is a more positive piece, with the author remembering her cousin who died in the 1999 Jiji earthquake and hoping that she’s in a better place.

“Red Bean Milk Popsicle” tells of how the simple memory of eating popsicles with Grandma helps a child remember her, with the smiles on their faces making for touching images.

When facing the death of a relative, we need to come to terms with the sorrow at our own pace. “She Smiles” is a more positive piece, with the author remembering her cousin who died in the 1999 Jiji earthquake and hoping that she’s in a better place.

“Red Bean Milk Popsicle” tells of how the simple memory of eating popsicles with Grandma helps a child remember her, with the smiles on their faces making for touching images.

Many patients facing death remark on seeing long-passed family members coming to see them. In “A Vicarious Life,” the character sees his own life pass before his eyes, seemingly foretelling his imminent demise.

Many patients facing death remark on seeing long-passed family members coming to see them. In “A Vicarious Life,” the character sees his own life pass before his eyes, seemingly foretelling his imminent demise.