Perspective on celebrity death as a bereaved Mom

Throughout my grief journey, I’ve made a promise to myself to be transparent. In the early days, it became so shockingly apparent to me how few people understood grief and loss and one of my goals has been to change that, even if only in the smallest of ways. Transparency isn’t always pretty, but I owe it to myself and to those reading to share those raw moments, even when they’re ugly.

With the death of Kobe Bryant yesterday, I found myself internally questioning those who were seemingly affected by it and expressed extreme emotions. I thought to myself: “My pain is SO much deeper than theirs! I lost my daughter – this is a celebrity! How can someone be so affected by someone they don’t even know?” While of course his untimely passing is shocking and awful, I felt this resentment toward those around me who were grieving the loss of a celebrity, as I was quick to think that they didn’t truly understand how painful “real” grief is.

These thoughts continued to eat at me. It’s been cycling in the back of my mind, and when I woke up this morning the message became clear: I’m being a hypocrite. 

We can still know and connect with celebrities, even if it is different from how we know our friends and neighbors.

I’ve had these judgmental thoughts about people grieving someone they didn’t know personally, but who I am I to judge who a celebrity is to a person? Famous athletes, movie stars, musicians, authors, artists can be heroes and even idols to us. They can be a connection to our past, the reason we persevere or make certain choices – good or bad. They can provide a guiding light to children who otherwise don’t have anyone to look up to. They can provide goals and dreams for us to aspire to. The point is, they have the potential to make a profound impact on us, and can be very influential parts of our lives – even if we don’t personally interact with them.

I appreciate when strangers are empathetic to our grief, so why should I feel any different about the families of celebrities who have passed receiving that same level of empathy and connection?

My daughter was not famous, but she was still a living, breathing person. Kobe Bryant is eternally famous, but he was still a living, breathing person. He has a family. His daughter has a family. Every single person on that helicopter has a family. Imagine the deep connection and love that the surviving members of their families will feel in the days, months and years to come, knowing how many strangers loved and cared for them?

Your grief journey is your own. 

For months, I’ve preached that everyone’s grief journey is their own, that everyone’s experience is their own and that it is all relative. Whether you’ve lost a child, a parent, a teacher, a coach, a friend, an idol – it is your experience. It is your grief journey. You deserve to grieve in your own way, and your experience is real and valid. It’s time that I shift my perspective, and practice what I preach.

It’s easy to judge. It’s harder to see a perspective beyond our own. I’m trying to keep doing the hard things.

Thank you for remembering and caring about my daughter, Madeleine, even those of you who never had the chance to meet her or anyone in our family. It means everything to me, as her mom. A friend, Sandy Hahn, shared these profound words today, and I can’t think of a better way to express this, so I’d like to close by sharing her quote:

“To feel affected by the death of someone you don’t know is to realize that our reach, our impact, our energy extends beyond the circle we perceive to be our own.

A reminder to be careful with words, to love and accept deeply. Share, inspire, and live an authentic life. Our time on this Earth is fleeting, and you are powerful.“