In the quiet lives of our ancestors, grief was a sacred and communal experience. Before the world became so fast, so loud, and so connected by social media, we were given the space to mourn — to simply be with our sorrow. There was respect, empathy, and compassion surrounding the grieving process. People understood that grief was not something to be rushed or fixed; it was a passage to be honored.

But today, in a world flooded with constant notifications, opinions, and curated snapshots of happiness, grief has become harder to hold. We live in an age where space — real emotional space — is rarely given. The moment we share pain or loss online, it is often met with rushed advice, surface-level comments, or worse, silence and avoidance. Social media has eroded not only our understanding of grief but our collective capacity to sit with it, to allow someone the dignity of their process.

When most people hear the word grief, they think of the death of a loved one. But grief is so much more than the loss of someone physically present. It is the quiet, aching sorrow of losing parts of ourselves — the versions of us we no longer are, the dreams we let go, the identities we shed.