Death is Nothing at All

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

by Henry Scott-Holland. Death Is Nothing At All. Souvenir Press Limited, 1987

Why we’re lovin’ it: What we appreciate most about the show “Shrinking” on Apple TV is that it shows grief through the eyes of a teenager and an adult, and how the relationship between father and daughter struggles while they grieve their mother/wife’s death. 

In this series, Jimmy, a father, and a therapist, distracts himself from the pain of having experienced the death of his wife and pushes himself away from his grieving teenage daughter, Alice, who needs support from her father now more than ever. 

This show explores something often not represented or talked about: how family dynamics suffer from dealing with the death of a shared person who died. 

In the show's third episode, “Fifteen Minutes,” Alice’s therapist, played by Harrison Ford (yeah, THE Harrison Ford), suggests that she take 15 minutes to listen to a song and allow herself to grieve. When she tries out the exercise, her dad finds her crying. Later on, in an effort to connect with her, he listens to the same song she does (“I Know the End”/Phoebe Bridgers) while on a bike ride and almost immediately starts sobbing before yelling a huge “Eff you, Phoebe Bridgers!” for making him feel all of the feelings. 

Talking about grief is messy. Still, it feels good to see characters accurately represent how grief can impact your relationships with your caregiver on TV. (Don’t worry, though; the show isn’t all the messy parts of grief; there are lots of laughs and tons of relatable moments from Alice's perspective.)

If you haven’t seen it, give it a watch!

We love the song "Heart of Gold"  by Shawn Mendes, which a beautiful tribute written in memory of his childhood friend who died from a drug overdose. The song is about the sadness and regret Mendes feels for not being there during his friend's struggles.

In the lyrics, he talks about missed opportunities to support his friend: "I didn't know what you were going through / I'm sorry that I wasn't there." ​

We especially appreciate the chorus: "You had a heart of gold, yeah / You had a heart of gold / You left too soon, it was out of your control," capturing the pain of losing someone too soon and the huge,  lasting impact they leave behind. ​

Mendes dedicated "Heart of Gold" to others who have experienced the grief of losing someone in this way. It's a totally heartbreaking but relatable ballot.

We are love, love, lovin' this beautiful poem, spoken by Tina, a teen member of our Youth Advisory Board who talks to her younger self about grieving her mom, who died when Tina was 10. Check it out and show Tina a little love in the comments if you like what you hear!

What about YOU? What would you tell your younger self about grief? What kind of comfort might you offer?