I have been to more funerals in 2025 than in any other period of my life. It’s a strange sensation to attend an event where everyone is gathered to remember someone who was alive just yesterday. It’s strange because, in moments like these, all the material possessions, thoughts, worries, happiness, and wealth feel meaningless. What are we even doing? What is our bigger purpose in life?
I remember in grad school, one of our professors repeatedly told us that death is inevitable. We need to know how to talk about it, process it, and handle it because we will work with individuals and families for whom death is ever-present. It’s not easy—no one wants to talk about death—but it is one of the few certainties in life. We are all going to die one day. This topic should not be as taboo as it is. I am forever grateful to that class and professor for normalizing death, for teaching us how to support others during their time of need, and for giving us tools that last a lifetime.
We had a required reading for a book called Grief Is a Journey by Dr. Kenneth J. Doka. I still refer back to it to this day in a variety of situations at work: the death of a friend, a sister, or a parent. It’s one of my most-read books, one I have highlighted and marked up. I keep it front and center on my bookshelf because I know I will have to refer to it throughout the month for work.
We were taught that naming it is the best way to avoid confusion. When someone passes away, you don’t tell a child they “went away” because the child keeps expecting them to come back. When they don’t, it leads to broken promises and disappointment. Funerals serve this purpose—they give us closure. They help us accept that the person is no longer on this earth. Funerals are not fun or meant to be exciting but they do allow us to pay respect and find closure.
I just want to take a moment and say: if you have experienced loss or grief, you are not alone. This world is scary, and in many ways, it can feel lonely, like nobody gets it. I may not know what it feels like to lose a parent, but that does not mean I and others don’t know how to show up in other ways. Being part of a community means being there for someone even when you cannot fully relate. The pain doesn’t go away; you just learn how to navigate it better. If you know someone who has experienced loss, show up. It doesn’t have to be a loud gesture; a simple ‘hey, I was thinking of you, do you want to hop on a call for a couple of minutes to talk?’
Funerals also serve as a reminder that life is fleeting, and tomorrow is not guaranteed. Maybe the bigger purpose isn’t having all the answers, but learning how to love, show up, and care for one another through the hardest moments. It’s about making the best of the worst situation.
Grief is heavy, but it’s also a reminder that love existed.