Can We Please Stop Ghosting the Grieving?

Look, I get it. Grief is messy. It's uncomfortable. It doesn’t follow a script or timeline. And for those watching from the outside, it can feel like trying to comfort a tornado.

But can we please, for the love of all things good and holy, stop ghosting people when they’re grieving?

It’s one thing to disappear from a group text because you’re overwhelmed by memes and notifications. It’s another thing entirely to vanish from someone’s life because you don’t know what to say after their dad dies. Or their baby. Or their partner. Or their sense of self after a chronic illness diagnosis.

That kind of disappearing act? It doesn’t go unnoticed. It adds another layer of hurt to an already unbearable pile. It says, “Your pain is too big for me.” It says, “I’m uncomfortable, so I’m choosing silence.” It says, “You’re on your own.”

And that’s just not okay.

Grief Is Not Contagious

SURPRISE! Grief is not contagious. You will not “catch it” by sitting next to someone who’s grieving. But maybe you will catch a glimpse of your own mortality. You’ll be reminded that people die, and love ends, and the world is unfair sometimes.

Is that scary? Doi.

But grief is also one of the most human experiences we have. It’s the tax we pay for loving people. And when someone is drowning in it, the answer is not to walk away and hope someone else has a life preserver, it’s to wade in. Even if you don’t have the right words. Even if all you have to offer is a stiff drink and a “This sucks, I love you.”

Why Do We Ghost the Grieving?

The ghosting isn’t always malicious. It’s usually born of awkwardness. People don’t know what to say. They’re afraid they’ll say the wrong thing. They think, “She has family around, she probably doesn’t need me.” Or “It’s been a while, he’s probably over it by now.”

We tell ourselves this because it’s more comfortable than the truth: grief is inconvenient. It doesn’t wrap up nicely. And we’ve never been taught how to show up for it.

But we can learn.

Show Up Imperfectly

If someone you love is grieving, you don’t need a perfect speech. You need presence.

You need to text even if they don’t respond.
You need to drop off dinner even if they forget to say thank you.
You need to check in even if it’s been six months or a year and everyone else has moved on.

You don’t have to fix it. (Spoiler: you can’t fix it.) You just have to witness it.

Say:

• “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”

• “I was just thinking about them today. Do you want to talk?”

• “I made too much soup, and I’m dropping it off. No pressure to answer the door.”

It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about staying. Even when it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.

The Damage of Disappearing

When we ghost the grieving, we reinforce the belief that grief should be hidden. That it’s something to get over quickly and quietly. We make people feel like they have to perform “being okay” just to keep from being abandoned.

But grief is already isolating. It's already a strange, underwater world. When the texts dry up, when the door stays shut, when the casseroles stop, the grieving are left to wonder if their pain has made them unlovable.

It hasn’t.

What’s become rare is a community that knows how to hold pain without turning away.

Let’s Do Better

Let’s be those people who don’t disappear. Who don’t change the subject. Who don’t wait for the “right” time.

Let’s sit with the mess. Let’s drop the platitudes and say, “Yeah, this is awful, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Let’s normalize sticking around for the long haul, for the anniversaries, for the days that sneak up out of nowhere.

Because ghosting the grieving doesn’t protect them. It just teaches them to suffer in silence.

And they deserve so much more than that.

A Question to Ponder:
Who in your life might be carrying invisible grief and how can you gently, imperfectly, let them know you're still here?