Dawn Stewart, background, says goodbye to her daughter Gianna, 6, before leaving her for the day at Camp BraveHeart in South Kingstown. The Providence Journal / Gretchen Ertl

SOUTH KINGSTOWN — Under a sturdy old oak tree at the YMCA’s venerable Camp Fuller, 4-year-old Olivia Helms shared a memory of her late father with three clowns — and an admiring crowd.

“He took me to a toy store,” she said yesterday, grinning. One of the clowns repeated her words so everyone could hear.

Her dad, Duane Helms of Cumberland, has been gone just over two months.

Her brothers Justin, 6, and Christopher, 8, shared memories of Red Sox- and Patriots-game outings, special times with the man who died of synovial cell sarcoma four days before Father’s Day. Their mom, Kelly, watched her children with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

At this two-day mid-August camp meant just for them — and others like them who have experienced the death of someone significant in their lives — some 80 children from across the state shared a commonality unlike other childhood passions exchanged over the lunchroom table.

Grief. Over the death of fathers, mothers, pop-pops and best friends, to cancer, to accident, to illnesses unpronounceable to most of the youngsters enrolled in this Home & Hospice Care of Rhode Island-sponsored event, Camp BraveHeart.

Activities are typical of any camp: Kayaking, archery, swimming, rock climbing, even a daytime campfire and balloon release.

But there’s also a chance for the children to talk about their loss with other children who will understand.

According to Deanna Upchurch, of Tiverton, founder of the camp — now in its second year — and an employee of Home & Hospice, the activities, the fun, the campfire give the children a chance to burn off some sorrow and get grief support while surrounded by others feeling the same.

“Children often feel isolated in their grief,” Upchurch said, knowing from experience, with two daughters, Nina, 13, and Angela, 11, who lost their dad to leukemia. They were there yesterday not only in honor of him, but also to remember a young friend who died in childhood of the same disease.

Some of the older children who attended last year’s camp remain connected, said Ginny Maitland, a project coordinator from Home & Hospice Care who takes on the camp as a project.

“They e-mail or see each other on Family Day,” a mid-year get-together, she said, learning that they “are not alone.”

“The worst thing for a kid is to be different,” Upchurch said. And when you are the only child in a classroom with a deceased parent, that makes you different.

She hopes the camp will bring the children “a connection, and hope for the future.”

THE CHILDREN at this camp are of different ages, backgrounds and school districts, but whoever they plop themselves down next to on these grassy fields has some idea of death, loss and the ache that follows.

Alyssa Viens, 14, of Charlestown, said her dad, Charles, “died in his sleep four years ago.” She came to the camp last year, returning because “I just like being outside” and having the opportunity to make friends on a level different from at school.

“None of my friends have lost a parent. They don’t really know what I’m going through.”

Some children, especially the really young ones, arrive with a parent who remains nearby while they participate in the busy day, taking part in the games or offering a hug to a child reluctant to let go of a parent’s hand.

Bill Codega, of Rumford, clutched a bag of clothing in one hand and little Lucy in the other.

“It’s an unusual situation to be 65 and to have a 4-year-old,” he said.

Lucy was adopted from China when Lisa, Bill’s wife, was in her 40s. Last year, Lisa died from cancer. Momentarily confused over her absence, Lucy sometimes asks her dad, “is Mom here yet?”

While Lucy dashed around with a ball, and gazed at a clown’s magic tricks, the dazzling day and unguarded smiles of the children brought a bit of comfort to this dad who said it’s best to keep busy.

It also helps to meet other parents who know how it feels when asked by a child, “When is mom coming back?”

“It’s hard to find people in the community who know.”

THE CAMP IS FREE because of donations from Home & Hospice Care, Camp Fuller, Valuna Restaurant in Saunderstown and the Maureen Carlson Camp BraveHeart Fund.

Upon arrival, the children — and the counselors — attach name tags to their shirts that list those lost through death.

Mostly the names said “Daddy,” “Mommy,” “Pop-Pop.” But there were grandmothers remembered, too, such as Dora Stewart, who died on June 5, leaving behind her only grandchild, Amari Stewart, 5, of Providence.

“She used to take me to the park and to the store,” Amari said, momentarily smile-less.

“But I have a picture of her,” she said, brightening up. “Lots of pictures.”

Later, she would share a happy memory with the clowns — members of Providence’s Sonship Clowns, donating their time — of going with her grandmother and father to the Boston Children’s Museum. Other children did the same.

“My pop-pop took me to a Red Sox game,” said Adam Jean-Laurent, 10, of Johnston, who brushed away a tear in memory of his granddad.

WHEN NOT SHARING and remembering, the children went on to do what children, happy or grieving, mostly like to do: Run, play games, have a snack.

Randi Gilmore, of Burrillville, was surrounded by her five children, age 10 to 5. Their father and two grandmothers died within the course of a few months last year.

The children all said they didn’t want to talk about life without their dad and grandmothers, but did have a few things they looked forward to yesterday morning at camp.

“Swimming,” said Gabby, 5.

“Archery,” said Kaitlyn, 9, and Megan, 10.

“Swimming,” said Mackenzie, 7.

“Bacon,” said Jackson, 6.

Their mom laughed at his response, but Gabby agreed with his choice, adding that she likes the camp bacon, and the fries, too.

But Gabby would forget about the fries later on when the Sonship Clowns appeared, running ahead all grins and excitement, giving out hugs and a high five to the crayon-colored trio.

BLOND, CURLY-TOPPED Olivia Helms was just as excited, turning to her mom, pointing and fluttering: “Mom. Look at the clowns!”

Her mom nodded and smiled.

“This camp is a chance for them to have a good time, smile and be happy,” Kelly Helms, 34, said.

Her husband, she said, “was a wonderful father.” He asked that after he was gone, she get the children a dog. She did. “We named him Padre.”

Her middle child, Justin, a sturdy boy who earlier had said he liked playing baseball and football with his late dad, raced up to his mother, sweaty with childhood exertion. He handed her the little bottle of good-memory bubbles given to him by the clowns.

“Mom,” he instructed her seriously.

“Save this.”

afleming@projo.com