It’s OK to Grieve and Mourn After Losing Physical Stuff

After Fires and Disasters: It’s OK to Mourn the Belongings and Stuff We Lost

It’s not “just stuff” for many of us, especially grieving people. When we lose belongings and meaningful objects, it hurts.

 “At least you’re alive.” “It’s just stuff.” During the LA wildfires in January 2025, we often saw posts like this on social media. Well-meaning, most likely, but like many platitudes that we hear after a significant loss, it can feel like our pain and losses are being minimized.

Yes, our belongings are technically “just stuff” AND they can be so much more. For many of us humans, especially grievers, our belongings and physical stuff may help us to feel grounded, safe and connected to people we love. And when we lose those meaningful items, it HURTS!

​In a special gathering of The Grief Gallery, hosted by curator and certified grief coach Charlene Lam and LA-based Dr Julie Shaw of Hello I’m Grieving, we made space to mourn the belongings and meaningful objects we’ve lost — and to honor the role they played in our lives. Whether attendees were actively dealing with the aftermath of the LA wildfires or grieving a long-ago loss, all were welcome.

You’re not “silly” for mourning belongings you’ve lost. You don’t need permission to grieve the stuff.

Replay: Mourning the Stuff We’ve Lost

​In a special gathering of The Grief Gallery, hosted by curator and certified grief coach Charlene Lam and LA-based Dr Julie Shaw of Hello I’m Grieving, we made space to mourn the belongings and meaningful objects we’ve lost — and to honor the role they played in our lives. Whether attendees were actively dealing with the aftermath of the LA wildfires or grieving a long-ago loss, all were welcome.

Here are some of the video highlights from our conversation:

Permission to Grieve the Physical Stuff

In these 17 minutes of thoughtful conversation, we

  • make space to mourn the stuff
  • see what’s attached to the meaningful stuff
  • talk about our experiences of loss, from childhood losses to coping with the LA Fires
  • give ourselves permission to grieve it all

Talk Excerpt: The Power of Owning What We’re Grieving

“Are these just physical things?  I think it’s a multitude. When we talk about stuff or the things that we’ve lost or that we’re mourning, it really is up to you.

It’s the same thing, just with how individualized our grief is, how individualized we are as humans and the individualized experiences that we have, that what we are defining as stuff and the things that we have lost and that we will mourn, that is up to you.

There’s a lot of power in that, in saying that this is my thing, this is my stuff.

I think even as we go through life, we talk about the baggage that we’re carrying: ‘This is my stuff.'”

– Dr Julie Shaw, founder of Hello I’m Grieving

Talk Excerpt: Grief and Your Relationship With Stuff

“A question that I like to ask people is: What’s your relationship with stuff?

Because usually, in the context of grief, I find that it gets all jumbled together. Like in my example, there’s my relationship with my mom. There’s my relationship with her house. There’s my relationship with losing my mother and that experience.

And then there’s the relationship with her stuff, which took over my life for two years while I figured out her estate. And then there’s also the relationship with my stuff. And then tangential to that, there’s my husband’s relationship to stuff, which looks very different from my relationship with stuff.

So I think that might be interesting for you, and when I say you, I mean generally everyone, for us to consider, what is my relationship with stuff? Has my relationship with stuff changed after significant loss?

So, for example, the soy sauce in my mother’s kitchen. When my mother was alive, I have never gotten teary over the soy sauce and her cooking oils before. After she died, that soy sauce represented so much, and it felt so precious.

I know that my grief response changed in terms of my relationship with stuff. I always enjoyed things, I enjoyed belongings, but suddenly stuff represented my connection to my mother. Stuff represented connection to my grandmother in a much deeper way.

Stuff represented security in a much deeper way. I had lost my mother who was my security, so now her house or her stuff represented security.”

– grief coach Charlene Lam, creator of Curating Grief

What about you? Do you grieve for items you’ve lost? What object do you still wish you had?

When we make space for grief, we also make more space for joy, beauty and more of what we want.

The Grief Gallery curator Charlene Lam showing pin cushions to a visitor at the London Design Festival 2022

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES FOR LA WILDFIRE SURVIVORS

​Remember, meet yourself where you are in your grief and in your current needs. Are you:

… in survival mode after the LA fires or other disaster/major loss?

… giving yourself permission to mourn the stuff and anything else you want to grieve?

… trying to choose what to keep and how to let go?

LA Fires links:

– LA Grief resources from Claire Bidwell Smith https://www.lagrief.com/

– My friend Dr Julia Coangelo has been sharing her wisdom from surviving the Lahaina fire on Maui 18mo ago: https://www.instagram.com/drjuliacolangelo/

Honoring the Stuff and Choosing What to Keep:

​My signature Curating Grief talk (14min) touches on many helpful concepts:
https://youtu.be/osjO5BB5aPY?si=khgz2iD3brPa11w-

My book Curating Grief: A Creative Guide to Choosing What to Keep After a Loved One Does expands on these concepts, whether you’re dealing with physical stuff or emotional stuff: https://curatinggrief.com/book

​You can download the prologue, intro and sample chapter for free here.

hello

I'm Charlene

I help grieving people feeling burdened by responsibilities, resentments and regrets after the death of a loved one to feel lighter –– so you can live your own fullest life. 

After the sudden death of my mother Marilyn in 2013, I put my life, work and grief on hold as I struggled to deal with the estate, paperwork and belongings.

Healing took time -- and it took help.

I'm a certified grief coach, and I developed my Curating Grief framework to help people process grief in a creative, accessible way. Learn how to move forward, without leaving your connection to your loved one behind.

 

Get In Touch

  • hello@charlenelam.com

GRIEF SUPPORT

Monthly Grief Gathering

You're invited to join The Grief Gallery's free monthly gathering for creative inspiration and community connection. Hosted by grief coach and curator Charlene Lam.

CONTACT

  • hello@charlenelam.com

CONNECT

YOU ARE ALL WELCOME

Trans-inclusion LGBTQI rainbow flag to welcome for grief support

THE BOOK

My first book Curating Grief: A Creative Guide to Choosing What to Keep After a Loved One Dies

WORK WITH ME

GRIEF COACHING

MEET ME IN LISBON

SPEAKING AND WORKSHOPS

PICK MY BRAIN

MONTHLY GRIEF GATHERING

Join us for The Grief Gallery's free, supportive grief group gathering the last Wednesday of the month, 2pm ET (7pm UK).

RSVP

SEE ALL EVENTS

Visit curatinggrief.com/grief-events

CURATING GRIEF PODCAST

GRIEF RESOURCES

Find Grief Resources

Join the Newsletter

Subscribe for grief resources and event invitations
    We respect your privacy. Unsubscribe at any time.

    How Long Does Grief Last? Grieving and Curating on Your Own Schedule

    How Long Does Grief Last? Grieving and Curating on Your Own Schedule

    Feeling rushed to “move on” or move forward after a major loss? Contrary to what popular culture portrays, there’s no set timeline for grieving and mourning.

    Proof of Life

    In the beginning, everyone wants proof of death.

    How did she die? When did he die?
    How could this happen?
    Is she really gone?

    There are forms to fill out
    Paperwork to complete
    Obituaries to write
    Questions to attempt to answer

    Later, sometimes much later
    After the forms have been filed
    The piles of paper have diminished
    Our focus turns to proof of life

    We remember not how the person died
    But how they lived
    Not the beginning and end dates of a life
    But the dash between

    This is where we celebrate PROOF OF LIFE

    – London, October 2015

     

    This poem was my curator’s note for the first exhibition of The Grief Gallery, which was called “Proof of Life.” Up until that point, my life had largely revolved around the end date of my mom’s life. I focused primarily on surviving and navigating the impact and fallout from her sudden death.

    The first couple of years were mired in what I call the Proof of Death stage—taking care of all the paperwork, emptying her dream house, just barely coping. After all the forms were filled out, her estate settled, and her ashes scattered, I felt like I had the luxury and the pleasure of celebrating my mom’s life.

    If you’re deep in the process of dealing with probate, the estate, sorting through the belongings and other death admin, I want you to know at some point this will be done.

    The first exhibition I presented with my mom’s belongings. The start of The Grief Gallery. London, October 2015.

    Grief has no set timeline.

    Your grieving doesn’t have to be completed after a month or a year, or a lifetime. That doesn’t mean it’s always going to feel the same, like the searing raw pain earlier on in your experience of loss. You can grieve on your own timeline and at your pace.

     

    How My Grieving Timeline Looked

    My mother died suddenly of a stroke in January 2013. A couple of months later, we hosted a celebration-of-life gathering for friends and family as her memorial. The first year or so, I didn’t cry much at all. I mostly felt numb, and was entirely focused on the practical tasks associated with paperwork, her belongings and the estate. I did not present my first in-person exhibition with her belongings until October 2015 — more than two and a half years after she died, and a year after I sold her house.

    I still grieve and mourn my mother, more than a decade later. It’s not the same feelings — my grief has evolved, its edges have softened, and I, too, am different. I can honestly say that I now remember my mom with more love and so much less pain, though it’s almost always bittersweet. And that’s OK.

    How Grief Might Look Like For You Over Time

    Your grief may look similar to mine, or very different. Maybe your person had been ill for a long time, so you were already preparing yourself, mentally, emotionally, and practically. Maybe you’d already had discussions with your loved one about how they wanted to be remembered. Maybe your grieving process is calling for you to create and present something now. Or maybe your grief is asking you to slow down and to just be for a while, to not add pressure to do anything new.

    I’m always in favor of doing what is most supportive for you in your grief.

    The Grief Gallery curator Charlene Lam showing pin cushions to a visitor at the London Design Festival 2022

    Sharing items from my mom’s house and my grandma’s pin cushion at The Grief Gallery’s pop-up at the London Design Festival, Sept 2022.

    My Grief Keeps Evolving

    Each time I curate an exhibition about my mom, I learn more about her, about myself, and about grief. Having these continuing mourning rituals, beyond the initial funeral or memorial, is one of the best parts of the Curating Grief approach I developed, in my opinion! We can use the lens of curating and the metaphor of exhibitions to create ongoing opportunities for us to celebrate our person and for us to be witnessed in our continuing process of grieving.

    Adapted from the book Curating Grief: A Creative Guide to Choosing What to Keep After a Loved One Dies

    I’d love to hear from you — Connect with me on Instagram @curating_grief or on LinkedIn at https://www.linkedin.com/in/charclam/ or attend The Grief Gallery’s free monthly gathering.

    Feel free to reach out hello@charlenelam.com

    Want help unpacking your own experience of grief and loss, and finding your way through the storm of major loss, especially after the death of a loved one? Find out more about working with me and my grief coaching packages.

    hello

    I'm Charlene

    I help grieving people feeling burdened by responsibilities, resentments and regrets after the death of a loved one to feel lighter –– so you can live your own fullest life. 

    After the sudden death of my mother Marilyn in 2013, I put my life, work and grief on hold as I struggled to deal with the estate, paperwork and belongings.

    Healing took time -- and it took help.

    I'm a certified grief coach, and I developed my Curating Grief framework to help people process grief in a creative, accessible way. Learn how to move forward, without leaving your connection to your loved one behind.

     

    Get In Touch

    • hello@charlenelam.com

    GRIEF SUPPORT

    Monthly Grief Gathering

    You're invited to join The Grief Gallery's free monthly gathering for creative inspiration and community connection. Hosted by grief coach and curator Charlene Lam.

    CONTACT

    • hello@charlenelam.com

    CONNECT

    YOU ARE ALL WELCOME

    Trans-inclusion LGBTQI rainbow flag to welcome for grief support

    THE BOOK

    My first book Curating Grief: A Creative Guide to Choosing What to Keep After a Loved One Dies

    WORK WITH ME

    GRIEF COACHING

    MEET ME IN LISBON

    SPEAKING AND WORKSHOPS

    PICK MY BRAIN

    MONTHLY GRIEF GATHERING

    Join us for The Grief Gallery's free, supportive grief group gathering the last Wednesday of the month, 2pm ET (7pm UK).

    RSVP

    SEE ALL EVENTS

    Visit curatinggrief.com/grief-events

    CURATING GRIEF PODCAST

    GRIEF RESOURCES

    Find Grief Resources

    Join the Newsletter

    Subscribe for grief resources and event invitations
      We respect your privacy. Unsubscribe at any time.

      F Your Rainbows: Grief Has No Set Timeline

      F Your Rainbows: Grief Has No Set Timeline

      F Your Rainbows: Grief Has No Set Timeline

      People love to offer silver linings and rainbows to grievers. But when you’re devastated by loss, you might not want to hear it. That’s when you might think: F* Your Rainbows

      The problem is, when you’re devastated from a recent loss, you might not want to hear about silver linings and rainbows:
      “At least they’re no longer suffering.”
      “At least they lived a good life.”
      “He would want you to be happy.”

      (Hint: Anything that starts with “at least” is unlikely to be helpful.)

      As a griever, you might well be thinking: F*ck your rainbows.
      🌪️ ☔ 🌩️ 🌧️ 🌦️ 🌤️ ☁️ ☀️ 🌈


      I use a weather analogy to describe stages and phases of grief and loss:


      🌪️ The thick of the storm – You’re in the terrible early stages of dealing with the emotional and practical aftermath of the death of a loved one. You and your family are just trying to survive the storm.

      🌧️ 🌩️ Persistent dark, rainy clouds – You’re resuming parts of your life, like school or work. It may feel like you’re just going through the motions. There may be a feeling of disconnect, between other people cheerily living their lives, and the gloominess you’re experiencing.

      🌦️ 🌤️ Clouds dissipating and peeks of sunshine – You’re out of the worst of the storm. You’re smiling a bit more, even when you think of your loved one. You feel more hope that though life will never be the same, life can go on.

      🌈 Ready for Rainbows – Time has passed, some healing has been done. You find comfort or meaning in remembering your loved one. You can spot and appreciate the proverbial rainbow after the rain.


      It’s OK to be where you are, no matter your inner grief weather.

      These aren’t linear stages. Some days, it may all be dark clouds. Others, an unexpected ray of sunshine comes through. Then the clouds may return.

      Just remember: The sunshine is always there, beyond the clouds.

      On the darkest days, the sun still shines, even when we can’t see it yet. And even if we’re not ready for rainbows yet, maybe someday we will be.

      I like using this metaphor of inner grief weather to check in with ourselves and others.

      How’s your inner grief weather today?
      If you were to express it in a weather emoji or two, what would it be?

      I’d love to hear from you — Connect with me on Instagram @curating_grief or on LinkedIn at https://www.linkedin.com/in/charclam/ or attend The Grief Gallery’s free monthly gathering.

      Feel free to reach out hello@charlenelam.com

      Want help unpacking your own experience of grief and loss, and finding your way through the storm of major loss, especially after the death of a loved one? Find out more about working with me and my Unpacking Grief coaching package.

      hello

      I'm Charlene

      I help grieving people feeling burdened by responsibilities, resentments and regrets after the death of a loved one to feel lighter –– so you can live your own fullest life. 

      After the sudden death of my mother Marilyn in 2013, I put my life, work and grief on hold as I struggled to deal with the estate, paperwork and belongings.

      Healing took time -- and it took help.

      I'm a certified grief coach, and I developed my Curating Grief framework to help people process grief in a creative, accessible way. Learn how to move forward, without leaving your connection to your loved one behind.

       

      Get In Touch

      • hello@charlenelam.com

      GRIEF SUPPORT

      Monthly Grief Gathering

      You're invited to join The Grief Gallery's free monthly gathering for creative inspiration and community connection. Hosted by grief coach and curator Charlene Lam.

      CONTACT

      • hello@charlenelam.com

      CONNECT

      YOU ARE ALL WELCOME

      Trans-inclusion LGBTQI rainbow flag to welcome for grief support

      THE BOOK

      My first book Curating Grief: A Creative Guide to Choosing What to Keep After a Loved One Dies

      WORK WITH ME

      GRIEF COACHING

      MEET ME IN LISBON

      SPEAKING AND WORKSHOPS

      PICK MY BRAIN

      MONTHLY GRIEF GATHERING

      Join us for The Grief Gallery's free, supportive grief group gathering the last Wednesday of the month, 2pm ET (7pm UK).

      RSVP

      SEE ALL EVENTS

      Visit curatinggrief.com/grief-events

      CURATING GRIEF PODCAST

      GRIEF RESOURCES

      Find Grief Resources

      Join the Newsletter

      Subscribe for grief resources and event invitations
        We respect your privacy. Unsubscribe at any time.

        Need help with grief? I can help.

        Get in touch: Email hello@charlenelam.com

        Note: Coaching and coaching consultations are not a substitute for counseling, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis, mental health care, substance abuse treatment, or other professional advice by legal, medical or other qualified professionals. If you are experiencing a mental health emergency, contact 911 or your local emergency services.

        Copyright © 2025 Charlene Lam. Curating Grief ™ and The Grief Gallery ™. All Rights Reserved | Terms of Use | Privacy Policy

         

        Working at the intersection of grief, race and identity: Views from a Chinese-American grief coach

        Working at the intersection of grief, race and identity: Views from a Chinese-American grief coach

        Working at the intersection of grief, race and identity: Views of a Chinese-American grief coach

        “Do I need to work with a therapist or coach with the same identity as me?” If you have that question, certified grief coach Charlene Lam shares her perspective on working with people of diverse identities, ethnicities and backgrounds.

        In this video and post, I share my take on working with grievers of different identities and backgrounds. Note that I originally made this video for fellow grief professionals, but this may also be of interest if you’re a griever wondering what kind of grief support is right for you!

        Hi, I’m Charlene Lam. I’m a certified grief coach, curator, and the founder of The Grief Gallery. I am Chinese-American. I am a naturalized British citizen. I’m originally from New York City, and I’m now based in Lisbon, Portugal. 

        I’m also a motherless daughter. I lost my amazing mother, Marilyn, to a stroke in January 2013.

        I want to share with you some of my views of how to work with people of different races and ethnicities and identities in the context of grief. Here’s my take on it. 

        One, that I consider myself to be part of my client’s grief support team.

        We’re a team. And that includes their family members, their friends, support groups they might be a part of, and medical professionals. Most of my clients are working with a therapist as well, or have been working with a therapist.

        And I consider myself to be part of their grief support team. I don’t expect to be the one providing all of the grief support and fulfilling all of the needs for my client. I hope that everything that they’re trying and using is working well together. 

        I refer out often. Sometimes I refer to therapists because a client brings up something that’s really related more to childhood trauma that’s showing up in the way that they respond to grief and to their loss.

        Or maybe the client is experiencing relationship issues and I’ve referred out to someone who really specializes more in attachment styles, for instance.

        So I refer out all the time and I like being part of a team to support my clients.

        Do I think that I need to work with someone who is the same race or ethnicity or cultural background as me? I would say it depends.

        For instance, I have an intersectional identity. We all do. I am Chinese-American. I am an only child. My parents are divorced. I am an immigrant. I am the child of immigrants. I am a grieving daughter. I have an anxiety disorder. I am child-free, mostly by choice. These are all facets of my identity that I might choose to work on and to work with, with a practitioner.

        My therapist, for instance – she is a queer white woman who has multiple children in Florida. And she’s obviously not the same identity as me in race or in ethnicity, but I find that she understands what it feels like to be othered and to be different. In the years of working with her, I have found her insights into that very helpful. 

        Now if I was to work on some of the aspects of my Chinese-American heritage, and specifically when it comes to grief, maybe working on the impact of my family’s superstitions on the way that they responded to death and dying in my family … 

        Or if I wanted to work with someone to explore further the loss of heritage that I’m really experiencing right now, and the layers that are coming up about the role of politics and the role of oppression and discriminatory immigration practices that affected my family …

        I would want to work with someone who has some deeper knowledge and experience of that. Someone who’s maybe looked at some of those issues themselves. 

        So that’s why I say it depends.

        For instance, if I’m exploring the role of superstitions in my Chinese-American family and how that impacted my experience of grief and getting grief support, then yes, I might want to work with someone who is someone Asian because they can meet me further along in the conversation. 

        I don’t have to explain that superstition was a big thing that came up multiple times throughout my life and in different instances of loss.

        I’ve unfortunately experienced grief support that felt like my experience of grief was considered exotic. That it was so different that the practitioner had to really stretch and had to learn a lot, and they weren’t asking the right questions.

        That’s not to say that you cannot become more culturally aware or more culturally informed, but I think the goal of being more culturally aware and more culturally informed is to actually be able to ask better questions.

        I appreciate when there are opportunities to speak with someone who really gets it on a deeper level, and where I don’t feel like I need to justify or explain or have my experiences questioned or even seen as different.

        So I hope that helps, in the context of this question of how do you work interculturally and cross-culturally in the grief and death care space!

        I love being part of a grief support team. I love reaching out to a range of different kinds of practitioners who share identities with me AND do not share identities with me.  

        Additional resources: I’ll also point you to this other video and post that shares my experience as an Asian griever and 5 ways that my Asian heritage shaped my experience of grief and loss. And again, I’m speaking just for myself in that context.

        I’d love to hear from you — If you’re a grief worker or other helping professional who works across a range of identities and experiences, please do reach out. Connect with me on Instagram @curating_grief or on LinkedIn at https://www.linkedin.com/in/charclam/ or attend The Grief Gallery’s free monthly gathering.

        Feel free to reach out hello@charlenelam.com

        Want help unpacking your own experience of grief and loss, and the roles your culture, identity and family of origin have played? Find out more about working with me and my Unpacking Grief coaching package.

        hello

        I'm Charlene

        I help grieving people feeling burdened by responsibilities, resentments and regrets after the death of a loved one to feel lighter –– so you can live your own fullest life. 

        After the sudden death of my mother Marilyn in 2013, I put my life, work and grief on hold as I struggled to deal with the estate, paperwork and belongings.

        Healing took time -- and it took help.

        I'm a certified grief coach, and I developed my Curating Grief framework to help people process grief in a creative, accessible way. Learn how to move forward, without leaving your connection to your loved one behind.

         

        Get In Touch

        • hello@charlenelam.com

        GRIEF SUPPORT

        Monthly Grief Gathering

        You're invited to join The Grief Gallery's free monthly gathering for creative inspiration and community connection. Hosted by grief coach and curator Charlene Lam.

        CONTACT

        • hello@charlenelam.com

        CONNECT

        YOU ARE ALL WELCOME

        Trans-inclusion LGBTQI rainbow flag to welcome for grief support

        THE BOOK

        My first book Curating Grief: A Creative Guide to Choosing What to Keep After a Loved One Dies

        WORK WITH ME

        GRIEF COACHING

        MEET ME IN LISBON

        SPEAKING AND WORKSHOPS

        PICK MY BRAIN

        MONTHLY GRIEF GATHERING

        Join us for The Grief Gallery's free, supportive grief group gathering the last Wednesday of the month, 2pm ET (7pm UK).

        RSVP

        SEE ALL EVENTS

        Visit curatinggrief.com/grief-events

        CURATING GRIEF PODCAST

        GRIEF RESOURCES

        Find Grief Resources

        Join the Newsletter

        Subscribe for grief resources and event invitations
          We respect your privacy. Unsubscribe at any time.

          Need help with grief? I can help.

          Get in touch: Email hello@charlenelam.com

          Note: Coaching and coaching consultations are not a substitute for counseling, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis, mental health care, substance abuse treatment, or other professional advice by legal, medical or other qualified professionals. If you are experiencing a mental health emergency, contact 911 or your local emergency services.

          Copyright © 2025 Charlene Lam. Curating Grief ™ and The Grief Gallery ™. All Rights Reserved | Terms of Use | Privacy Policy

           

          Asian Grief: 5 Ways My Chinese-American Heritage Shaped My Experience of Grief and Loss

          Asian Grief: 5 Ways My Chinese-American Heritage Shaped My Experience of Grief and Loss

          Asian Grief: 5 Ways My Chinese-American Heritage Influenced My Experience of Grief and Loss

          I’m a grief coach, and when my mother died, my Chinese-American heritage affected my grief journey in unexpected ways. Culture, family of origin, race, ethnicity and identity: These are all factors that can shape how we experience grief after loss.

          In this video and post, I share five ways that my Asian heritage has influenced my experience of grief. I discuss the assumptions made about different cultures’ approaches to grief, the norm of not talking about illness and death, the role of superstition and traditions, the expectations of how to grieve, and the multi-layered nature of my grief journey.

          Hi, I’m Charlene Lam. I’m a certified grief coach and the founder of The Grief Gallery. I was born in Europe and I grew up in New York City in Chinatown and in the San Francisco Bay Area.

          I can only speak for myself and to my own experiences of grief and all the factors that go into that: My family history, the culture of my family of origin, and the larger culture that I grew up in.

          I really want to emphasize that because there are a lot of different kinds of Asian-Americans. There are a lot of different kinds of Asians! We are not a monolith. Our cultures can be very different and our individual experiences can be really different. So I just want to speak for myself and my own experience.

          Some context for the losses I’ve experienced:

          One, my grandmother, she died of cancer when I was five. That was my first experience with understanding what death was. And that wasn’t an easy lesson for reasons I’ll share in a moment.

          And then my mother died from a stroke when I was 35 in January 2013. That was the biggest loss that I’ve experienced as an adult.

          Here are five ways that my Asian heritage shaped the kind of support that I got and influenced my experience of grief and loss.

          1. Assumptions about Grief in Asian and Eastern cultures.

          There are a lot of assumptions made about how different cultures experience grief and approach grief and death and loss. I’ve had everyone from friends to strangers to therapists and other grief support people say: “Oh, well, you know, Eastern cultures have such a healthier relationship with death” and “Asian cultures have so many more ways and practices of staying connected to their ancestors.”

          That might be true. And as I said, we are not a monolith. We are lots of different kinds of cultures. Eastern culture includes East Asia, South Asia, Southeast Asia. And there are a lot of different cultures and religions and practices within those regions.

          And just because generations and generations ago in China, there might have been practices for staying connected to our ancestors, that doesn’t mean that any of that carried over to my experience growing up as a Chinese-American child or in my practices as an adult.

          So that’s one: Assumptions made about what my practices might be, what my family and what my culture’s approach to grief, death, and dying might look like.

          2. In my Asian-American family, not talking about illness and death was actually the norm.

          Contrary to the popular belief that Eastern cultures are so much better about talking about death and dying and staying in touch with our ancestors and people who have passed on, that absolutely was not my experience.

          In fact, it was the opposite. Throughout my childhood and even my adulthood, a lot of information was withheld. When someone was ill, when someone was in trouble, when someone had died, I often would not find out for days, for weeks, or for years.

          There might have been a range of reasons for that: I was the youngest child, so sometimes that was to protect me. With my grandmother, my mother didn’t have the language to explain what death meant, that my grandmother was actually gone.

          And often there were cultural aspects.

          I remember standing with my mom in the lobby of our apartment building after my grandmother died. A neighbor asked, how is my grandmother doing? And my mother said, “She’s fine.” As a five-year-old, I was so confused: What do you mean she’s fine? You’ve just been saying that she’s gone, she’s dead.

          Looking back now, I have so much compassion for my mother, for why she said that. My mom tried to explain it to me later, saying she didn’t want the neighbors to gossip, she didn’t want to have to field questions. (After all, she was a grieving daughter herself!)

          And as my aunt explained it, often in our culture, there might be aspects of not wanting to bother other people, not wanting to share bad news.

          Not talking about illness and death was just the norm in my family of origin. So you can imagine how that influenced my experience of grief and loss, and the idea of getting support, when I was taught:

          • Talking about illness and death is unlucky.
          • You shouldn’t be talking about it.
          • People don’t want to talk about it.

          I can only imagine how isolated other members of my family might have felt at different times of loss. Because potentially other people didn’t even know that they had lost a person!

          So, that’s number two: Not talking about illness and death was actually the norm. And that leads to …

          3. Superstition played a big role in my culture’s approach to grief and loss.

          A big reason that my family of origin, my Chinese-American family, did not talk about death and dying was because it was considered unlucky. There were a lot of superstitions that my family members had inherited from their family members and from their culture. And while my parents and immediate family weren’t that traditional, they still held on to some of those superstitions.

          For instance, Chinese New Year – the Lunar New Year – is an important time of year culturally. You might know about some of the things that are considered lucky: Red envelopes, oranges, the color red. All considered lucky.

           And there are a lot of things that are considered unlucky when it comes to the Chinese New Year, including talking about death and dying.

          Unfortunately for me, my mother died shortly before Chinese New Year.

          My family members said, “Don’t tell people. It’s unlucky. We don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable heading into the Lunar New Year.”

          And these were family members who had been in the U.S. for decades! In a lot of ways were very modern, but they still held on to some of these superstitions. When my uncle was sick a couple of years ago, he didn’t want to go into the hospital. because the Lunar New Year was coming up.

          I’ve heard similar accounts from other Chinese friends and colleagues who said, “Yeah, I wasn’t welcome into other people’s homes because I had recently experienced a death.”

          Again, you can imagine how isolating that might feel in circumstances that already feel isolating!

          Studies show that community support can be so important after we lose a loved one. You can likely see how that role of superstition might have blocked the receiving of that community support.

          4. As an Asian-American griever, I felt disconnected from cultural traditions.

          Another way that being Asian influenced my experience of grief was feeling disconnected from cultural traditions.

          This varies a lot from family to family. Some families are really traditional, and they do practice using an altar, for instance. Maybe their family had Buddhist traditions, and they maintain that. Maybe they went to the cemetery regularly and had rituals and ceremonies.

          I personally did not grow up with those traditions. I saw altars in restaurants and businesses when I grew up in Chinatown. I knew that offering fruit and burning incense on those altars were things that were done. But I never understood the meaning or purpose. That was not something that we did in our home, and my parents and family members didn’t really tell me much about it.

          Why was this the case? I think as Chinese-American immigrants, my parents emphasized fitting in and assimilating with American culture.

          That’s a long tradition of this. Asian-Americans are often cited as the model minority. And that is a myth: the model minority myth. But the belief that fitting in was the way to success was not uncommon for a lot of Chinese immigrant families, and that was certainly the case for my family.

          For instance, rather than sending me to Saturday School so that I could learn Chinese along with some of my classmates in Chinatown, my parents didn’t want me to do that. They wanted me to have more of a childhood, an American-style childhood where you had your weekends off. So while I appreciate that, there were definitely aspects of Chinese-ness, my heritage and traditions that they didn’t teach me. As an adult I do feel that disconnect.

          There were also expectations about how to grieve: How to grieve in a Chinese way or an Asian way, and how to grieve in an American way. Some family members expected grieving to look like being stoic and being strong. And then some of my more Americanized family members expected me to be more emotional and to cry more after my mother died.

          That was another aspect of feeling disconnect — not knowing what was right and not feeling like I knew what was expected of me.

          5. Multiple layers of grief and loss as an Asian immigrant.

          That brings me to my last point about how being Asian influenced my experience of grief and loss and still continues to: It’s a multi-layered experience. This is true of a lot of grievers, where we keep on peeling the layers of the onion (if you’ve heard that saying). There are these layers and layers that we keep on peeling and finding as we learn more, as we integrate loss into our lives, as we learn to coexist with our grief, even as we move forward with our own lives.

          For me, those layers often involve looking at what shaped my family’s responses to death, dying, and grief.

          When I was younger, I had a lot of resentment and judgment for how they responded. I had a lot of judgment about family members withholding information, or trying to protect me by making sure I was being more American than Chinese.

          Over the years, especially in more recent years, I’ve been peeling back layers of why they did that, and I have so much more understanding and compassion for them.

          Often it came back to a matter of survival. Either for economic survival, and sometimes for their actual survival.

          The aspects of lying and telling half-truths that I encountered were so confounding when I was little. Growing up in the U.S., I learned in elementary school that you shouldn’t lie, that you should always tell the truth. It did not make any sense to me why my family members would withhold information, and why they would lie about some of these hard truths.

          As I got older, and as I learned about things like the Cultural Revolution in China and discriminatory immigration laws in the U.S., I came to understand that a lot of my Chinese-American heritage involved necessary lying.

          Survival involved telling half-truths, masking and not telling the full story, whether that was because U.S. immigration laws said that Chinese men could not bring their families. Or whether it was because I had relatives who lived through the Cultural Revolution in China, and they brought the impact of that trauma over when they immigrated to the United States. 

          There are so many layers that I’m still unpeeling. More recently, I was reading about the history of New York’s Chinatown, and why Chinatowns formed. I read that Chinatowns were built as a form of protection because of attacks on Chinese immigrants in the larger society. And it had never struck me that was a reason why Chinatowns would form, and why Chinatowns would be so insular, and why they kept to themselves. 

          There are layers of grief associated with all of that — layers of loss and layers of me trying to better understand relatives that I’ve never met or don’t remember.

          I recently cleared out my family’s storage unit, and I found photos of my grandfather and my grandmother.

          My grandfather died when I was three. He got cancer and did not tell anyone about the symptoms until it was too late — which is not uncommon for men of a certain age or generation. But again, that was the story of my family’s life, not telling things.

          My grandmother died when I was five, so I don’t really remember her.

          I think: What layers of loss and grief did they carry? Did they actually have any kind of opportunity to address their grief? And what were they taught?

          I’m still peeling back the layers.

          Thanks for learning a bit about my stories of Asian grief and loss. Again, I can only speak to my own experience as a Chinese-American, as someone who grew up in New York, in the San Francisco Bay Area, and who grew up in my particular family, in our particular society.

          But I hope that gives you some ideas of the different ways that being Asian might influence someone’s experience of grief and loss.

          I’d love to hear from you — how have your culture, heritage and family of origin impacted your experiences of grief and loss? Connect with me on Instagram @curating_grief or attend The Grief Gallery’s free monthly gathering.

          Want help unpeeling the layers of your own experience of grief and loss? Find out more about working with me and my grief coaching packages.

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