The Lost Art of Grieving Out loud

Why we stopped showing grief — and why we need it back!

There is no right way to grieve a loss.

But once upon a time, we knew how to grieve out loud. We wore black lace and mourning veils, displayed armbands, and even carried lockets containing the woven hair of the deceased. Mourning was visible, communal, and honored.

So, what changed?

Over time, death became medicalized. Where dying at home surrounded by loved ones was once the norm, hospitals became the final destination. The sacred became clinical. The spiritual became sterile. And slowly, grief became inconvenient — something to fix or hide in a society obsessed with productivity.

Today, we grieve in silence.

After the funeral ends, after the flowers wilt and the casseroles are eaten, we’re expected to carry on. There’s no ritual to hold us, no time to pause. Bereavement leave is minimal. Grieving openly is often seen as weakness. And for many in the working class, mourning is something you must squeeze in on your lunch break — if at all. We dry our tears, force a smile, and return to our “normal” lives, even though nothing feels normal anymore.

Death used to bring communities together. Now it often isolates us. Our grief becomes a secret — something we’re afraid to share for fear of being judged, labeled “attention-seeking” or “too emotional.” In a social media-driven world, people feel ashamed if they post too much — or not enough.

When did death become taboo? And how do we begin to reclaim it?

We start by talking.

We bring back death and grief as real conversations, not whispered ones.

We remember that grief isn’t a problem to solve, but a sacred process to honor. Just as we prepare for birth, we must prepare for death — our own, and our loved ones'.

We bring back mourning apparel — black lace, pins, veils, armbands — whatever reminds you and others that you are holding a loss. We tell their stories. We say their names. We build altars. We light candles. We hold space for death and for grieving the loss of those we love.

There is no timeline for grief, it has no expiration date.

There is no “getting over” it.

But when we make space for it — together — we can begin to find beauty in the darkness. Not by forgetting, but by remembering.

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Something to Ponder...

Widows in Victorian England were expected to wear black and avoid social functions for two full years. Colors of mourning shifted slowly — from deep black to shades of gray or lavender — as they transitioned back into everyday life.