My overarching intention for developing this website on grieving the loss of strangers was creating a piece with relatable content. When I found myself devastated after reading Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s death notice, I sought out support by searching through the internet. But the only information I found dealt with heightened emotional responses following deaths of celebrities. There seemed to be a gap of information published about this human tendency, which I later discovered is an incredibly common experience. When I was assigned to write a revamped version of something previously written about—I chose to do the exact opposite. I wrote about something that wasn’t written about, instead.
Admittedly, grieving the loss of Amy Krouse Rosenthal was not my first experience mourning a stranger’s death. But my past experiences in this realm have been through more proximal relationships—ones in which I’ve had some sort of personal connection with the victim. When I grieved the loss of someone so strikingly distant, with no mutual ties to connect us—I started questioning my character. Was I so porous that I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to cope with a stranger’s loss? Or was I simply seeking out emotional release?
The only way for me to answer these questions—or rather, justify my own behavior—was through a close examination of myself, and then subsequently, a close examination of others. I began this experimental process by writing a personal narrative recalling the emotional havoc that ensued following Amy’s death. As I forced myself to dig deeper, I stumbled on an article which informed me that Amy’s Modern Love column was being adapted onto Hollywood’s screens. This is when I realized that there was more to the story than just some girl grieving the loss of a random writer on the internet—this was a pattern of human behavior that was simply not spoken about.
My data collection began. I started asking everyone and anyone who I crossed paths with, if they had ever grieved the loss of a stranger. I asked the baristas at Starbucks, the librarian, my teachers, classmates, and everyone in between. What was so fascinating was that nearly everyone I asked had a specific name to answer my question. There was a whole world out there of people grieving the losses of those they had never met. I compiled a list of the responses I received and speculated as to why that individual may have felt a heightened reaction to the loss.
Speculative thinking did not quite satisfy my quest for knowledge, so I turned to a more nuanced approach—interviews. I sat down with five different individuals and asked them every possible question about their grieving processes. Turns out, people don’t feel comfortable talking in front of cameras. While the actual content of the videos I recorded was ultimately useless, the conversations I had with my interviewees after turning off the cameras revealed some of the most brutally honest confessions throughout this entire data collection.
Having spent months collecting information on this highly personal topic, I felt ready to translate this information into one comprehensive story. I had learned the ins and outs of grieving the loss of strangers. I had learned about what resources were, and weren’t, available online. And the ways in which grief can be more inviting than it originally seems. Drawing on these findings and newfound understanding of how strangers relate to one another, I started writing a fundamentally personal journalistic essay. It needed to be personal to set a comfortable, trusting dynamic between me and the reader. But it also needed to be informative and go beyond my own experiences to demonstrate that this was a universal phenomenon.
Full disclosure—the hardest part of writing this piece has been focusing so narrowly on grief and death for such an extended period of time. At countless points, I’ve wanted to transform the narrative into something more simplistic or easygoing. But I learned a lot about myself as a writer by persisting despite wanting to quit. There has been nothing more rewarding for me than writing a piece that I consider to be relatable. Although not everyone has or will experience this form of grief, for those that do, my website will serve as a source of support and comfort. Had I stumbled upon this website while I was grieving Amy’s loss, I would have felt less ashamed and isolated. If, in the future, my website has this impact for even one person, I will feel incredibly accomplished.
I hope to continue writing about topics that go beyond everyday conversation—breaking the barriers of how we view society, or rather the strangers around us. Singling out my own behavior and discovering its seemingly universal practice was invigorating. Of course, it had its high and low moments, but it did teach me the importance in questioning everything and anything. Viewing things from every angle possible, and then narrowing down which route I wanted to take. Had I not forced myself into countless awkward conversations where I drilled strangers about their experiences with grief, my arguments would’ve been less representative of true behavior. But those uncomfortable conversations ended up being my favorite part of this entire process.
Life is boring when you take the easy way out. That’s the other main thing I learned about myself as a writer. Despite now feeling a slight sense of nausea when I hear, say, or type the words Grief, Loss, Stranger, or Mourning—tackling on this emotionally daunting topic was more satisfying for me than examining more lighthearted avenues. In the past, I have only written argumentatively, where I drew lines between black and white. Here, I show how grey the world is—there is no right or wrong when it comes to grief. There are simply insights, speculations, and observations. Our definition of grief and the way we relate to strangers is much more nuanced than our initial perceptions. As I continue writing, I want to prioritize areas that are less obvious, and not so definitively correct or incorrect.
The function of writing is to be able to effectively and clearly communicate ideas. Because grief is a sensitive topic, and I wanted to write in an honest and open tone, one of the greatest challenges has been choosing a proper prose to accompany the topic. Balancing the personal anecdotes with the informative messages felt like a seesaw at certain points. As a first attempt at writing in this personal journalistic manner, I can recognize the various points of failure, as well as the areas of growth to come.
Speaking of what’s to come—I hope in coming years to be able to set time aside to write for pleasure, and then eventually get my work published somewhere, someday. There is no rush, and I most definitely do not feel the clock ticking. But it is, and has been, at the back of my mind for a while now. Keep your eyes out!