Content note: This post focuses on some of my personal experiences with death, grief, and mourning. If this might be upsetting for you, please take care.
Halloween is a weird time to be dealing with grief. From horror movies to 12-foot-tall skeletons from Home Depot, it’s one of the few times of the year that death is very much a part of mainstream U.S. culture. I find myself torn between enjoying the lurid and macabre influence of the holiday and the much less fun real-life experience of mourning.
For those who don’t know, this year has been incredibly hard on a personal level. I knew that I was lucky to have so far avoided a lot of loss in my family; unfortunately, the dark side of that coin is an overwhelming amount of loss in short order. My cousin passed away very unexpectedly last fall, and 2020 took that tragedy and ran with it. Since March, I’ve lost my aunt, my grandmother, and both of my grandfathers. Add that to the incredible toll that COVID-19 has taken on the country, and you won’t be surprised to hear that I’ve been thinking a lot about death and mourning.
I’ve written before about death positivity, and that’s the lens that I’ve tried to take as I approach grieving. As a quick primer: the death positive movement isn’t exactly “pro-death” – it’s about accepting that death is a natural and unavoidable part of life and the idea that decreasing the stigma and fear around death and dying would make for a better adjusted society. Something that comes up a lot in death positive discussions is the importance of feeling connected to the dead throughout the end of life process, and that lack of connection has been particularly painful. We haven’t been able to have funeral or memorial services yet, and I’ve felt like I’m in limbo, stuck in a melancholy haze of heart ache. My cousin’s memorial last year was sad, of course, but it was also really affirming. It was overall a positive experience for me, remembering and celebrating him with other people who loved him, and it’s hard not to have that. Especially for people who aren’t closely aligned with a faith tradition, it’s hard to want meaningful, communal ritual in the wake of loss and find the limited options modern society offers are unavailable to you.
The Victorians were, of course, well-known for highly rigid and elaborate mourning rituals. Everyone knew what mourning required and what it looked like. Mirrors were covered with dark cloth and clocks stopped before the funeral. Even the bees had to be draped in black and informed of the death. You’d move from deep/full mourning to second mourning to half mourning on a pre-ordained schedule depending on your relationship with the deceased. Once you were permitted to wear jewelry again, there was a flourishing trade in mourning lockets and hair jewelry to commemorate your lost loved one.
There were obviously a lot of downsides to Victorian mourning, especially the extreme restrictions it placed on women, but I do think there’s something to be said for accepted public mourning. The modern desire to avoid all conversations about death and grief makes it hard to navigate the world as a person in mourning. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been casually greeted with “how’s it going?” on a work or social call and been frozen, unsure how to respond. It feels like a betrayal, of myself and those I’ve lost, to give an untruthful “it’s fine,” but it also feels weird to pour out my real feelings, especially when it’s someone I wouldn’t normally choose to confide in. A simple, socially-recognized way to silently inform someone that you’re grieving would be really helpful.

I saw this ribbon from KALMA and it immediately tugged at my heart. One of the things that’s most marked this year for me is the feeling of being fragile. I’m not saying that I’m generally a super tough cookie, because that’s certainly not true, but I usually am able to stay on a fairly even keel emotionally. This year, I’ve felt like I might crumble if someone looks at me too hard. Sometimes, I did wish I had a sign over my head that says “please be gentle.”
I’m not sure if I’ll wear it out; after all, I’m not really going anywhere right now, and it’s not something that most people would probably recognize. But it’s a Victorian-inspired mourning ritual that I’d very much like to come back into fashion. And more than that, it’s a talisman for me, and a reminder that it’s okay to ask for kindness in a difficult time.
Whether you’re grieving too, or just dealing with the state of the world, please remember to be kind to yourself and to others.









Cindy
October 8, 2020 at 8:19 pmLove you, boo, and love this post. <3 <3 <3
Penny Snark
October 15, 2020 at 9:40 am<3 <3
Danielle
October 8, 2020 at 8:26 pmThis was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing. I hope your pain eases with time.🧡
Penny Snark
October 15, 2020 at 9:40 amThank you, Danielle!
Bethany
October 9, 2020 at 10:23 amWonderfully written. First off, I’m so sorry for your loss. It is such a uniquely hard time to lose someone. I understand that feeling of being stuck in grief limbo. For me, it’s also met with anger and jealousy at those who are (imo recklessly) having services. I wish you all the grace you need to navigate this time of grief.
Penny Snark
October 15, 2020 at 9:39 amThanks so much for your kind words. I feel the same way…I want to have the release of having a service but obviously there’s no reasonable way to have one at this pont.