dear human

we were never taught to grieve the little deaths

by dimple dhabalia

Dear Human,

I've been thinking lately about all the ways we're grieving in this moment — and how little space we make for most of it. Not because we don't want to — but because most of us were never taught how to.

During the pandemic, I came across a passage in Francis Weller's book, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, where he talks about little deaths — the small, cumulative losses we carry over a lifetime. Disappointments. Exclusions. Broken relationships. Unacknowledged griefs. Forms of sorrow that are often not dramatic enough to be considered major losses, but that still mark our souls.

The friendship that ended without explanation. The career you dedicated your life to that was taken away overnight. The relationship that unraveled slowly. The version of yourself left behind in the chaos of growing up. The collective loss of life through unnecessary wars and genocides. The family you thought you'd have. The dreams that didn't survive. The loss of life as we once knew it as those in power morph our country into something ugly and cruel.

Little deaths.

I think about this often because so many of us are carrying the grief of little deaths — individually, and collectively — quietly, without ceremony, without anyone acknowledging that it's there. And rarely do any of these losses come with time off work or casseroles at the door. Rarely do we create rituals for honoring them. Rarely a moment where someone stops and says — I see what you're carrying. I know this pain is real. You're not alone.

And yet these losses live on in our bodies, growing and spreading with each heartbeat. Without acknowledgment they numb us, not just to the pain, but to the everyday goodness that breathes around us. They steal our joy and fill us with cynicism and anger. They shape the lens through which we see and experience the world and our place in it long after we crossed their thresholds.

If death is a part of life, then so is grief. It may be messy and painful, but it's also what makes us human — and that is something that deserves to be seen and honored.

with love,

dimple