The Grief of Watching Everyone Keep Going Like Nothing Happened
The emails kept arriving like nothing had happened, stacking one after another with mechanical indifference. The calendar remained full, the meetings carried on, but somewhere deep inside, your world.
The Encyclopedia of Grief is an archive of the kinds of grief that shape our lives quietly, often without anyone noticing. This season is focused on the grief that follows the broken promises of modern day life. We’re not here to fix anything. Take what you need and leave the rest.
The first time I experienced a sudden death in my life, I wasn’t sure if I could call out of work.
I remember staring at the message I was about to send, rereading it over and over. A friend had died. Not a family member. Not someone my boss would know. Would it count?
My brain stopped working right. I missed deadlines. I forgot words. My brain stopped working right. I missed deadlines. I forgot words.
No one outside of the affected circle of friends seemed to notice. Or maybe they did, and didn’t know what to say. Friends invited me to parties. Asked why I was so quiet. Wondered why I stopped showing up for the things I used to love.
I started running toward distractions. Filling my days with noise. But the grief kept finding me. Late at night, I’d sit in bed and wrestle with something I had never truly thought about before: even the brightest people disappear.
And one day, so will you.
✾ This grief lives at the edge of our hyper productive culture.
It is the sharp, surreal ache of trying to function after something irreversible happened. While everyone else just… keeps going.
Capitalism does not pause for grief. Emails don’t know someone died. Algorithms don’t grieve with you (even though an alarming number of people now rely on AI for therapy).
The “acceptable” losses that earn time off are narrow and impersonal: parent, spouse, child. As if friendship, chosen family, collective loss, or personal devastation don’t count unless HR can categorize it.
There is not public ritual for the ordinary devastations in the United States. No built-in stop. So most of us keep moving while broken. We smile through those meetings. We answer, “I’m good!” whenever someone asks. Confusing numbness with resilience, because we don’t know what else to do.
Many traditional cultures made space for repture. The Celtic’s practice keening, a traditional form of wailing, once an integral part of Irish funeral rituals. Ancient civilizations mourned with their clothing, dawning all black attire as a sign of respect for the deceased. Others hold mourning periods that lasted weeks, months, even years.
But modern life devours grief. It leaves no room for it to unfold.
In Jewish tradition, there is a period called shiva—seven days of intention pause after death. Mourners don’t work. They are surrounded by their communities, delivered meals, and supported through the journey. Mirrors are covered. And time seems to bend around loss.
Imagine if we let each other stop like that. Not just for funerals, but all the smaller endings too. The breakups. The betrays. The moment that rearrange your soul.
🪟 Pause Point
Open a quiet window into someone else’s world: WindowSwap.
Come back when your heart is ready.
✾ The Tarot of the Tower
The Tower card is one of the most feared in the tarot deck.
It arrives without warning. Lightning strikes. Foundations crumble. A structure you thought was solid begins to fall. But the Tower doesn’t destroy just to destroy. It creates space for new light and energy to rush in.
Within that bliss, comes a whole mountain of grief. Sudden Shocking. Exposing what was always fragile. And yet… in the rubble, something honest remains. The lie is gone. What’s left is real. You have time to rebuild—not in the same shape, but in something far more aligned.
✾ Three ways to work with this grief.
The Tower doesn’t just fall… in the rubble, strange new rituals and ways of being can take root. You don’t have to rush to rebuild.
Create a mourning space.
Find a place in your home to carve out space for mourning. Write about your disappointments on notes and bury them in the dirt of your favorite plant. Cover mirror, windows. Wear black. Cry when needed. Light candles and sing if it feels right.
Attend a session of ecstatic dance.
Many cultures rely on somatic release to process their grief. One place to find that feeling in the United States is at an ecstatic dance night, where sober movement to rhythmic music provides the perfect backdrop for healing.
New Orleans continues to lead the charge in collectivist celebration and mourning with their tradition of second line funeral marches. Even if we can’t experience this in person, listening in goes a long way.
Thank you for spending some time with this grief. Each entry in this library is a small act of remembrance for the parts of us that were never given space to feel, question, or break apart. For additional support, the Grief Resource Hub is here for you.
Before commenting, check out our Community Guidelines. If this grief resonated with you and you’d like to contribute to future seasons of the project, you’re invited to take our Share Your Story of Grief Survey. The goal is turning this into a community-led project, and I’d love for you to get involved.