The Cost of Bypassing Grief
In light of the tragedies on 9/10/25, and quite literally all year long…
By: Editor-in-Chief Kera Sanchez
We’ve gotten very good at not feeling. Outrage, blame, and endless name calling are easier to wear than the quiet truth that someone is gone and a family is shattered. Here’s what we know for certain: there will always be people who disagree with you, and there will always be death. Learning to navigate those truths—without bypassing grief or erasing humanity—is the only way we can function as a society. The harder thing— *the necessary thing* is to sit with the pain, witness the loss, and choose compassion over noise.
Today was another day, another round of headlines: two more shootings that made national news, and one here in Chicago’s Loop. And once again, families are waking up to the unthinkable—missing someone who should still be here.
What do we do in response? We argue about politics. We dissect media coverage. We scroll, we rage, we post and comment. We turn it into a “us” vs. “them”. As a educator, it’s giving me the ick. This cannot be the world we want to raise this next generation in.
And another thought, maybe—just maybe—that’s a collective coping mechanism. Because if we let ourselves sit fully in the truth—that someone’s mother, son, partner, or best friend is gone—it’s almost too much to bear.
That avoidance — let’s call it bypassing — looks like a lot of things. It’s the impulse to reduce a life to a data point. It’s the reflex to argue about coverage instead of asking who just lost a best friend. It’s turning someone’s death into the latest evidence for a cause and then scrolling on. Bypassing cushions us from vulnerability: anger is easier to wear in public than the quiet of sitting with someone else’s pain.
But bypassing also erases. Behind every headline is a person who laughed, who mattered to someone, who won’t be at tomorrow’s table. When we rush to take sides or to perform outrage, the people who need presence — mothers, siblings, partners, friends — disappear into the noise.
So let’s try the harder thing. Let’s witness. Let’s name the people, not just the policy talking points or the coverage complaints. Let’s offer practical care instead of comment on why it happened. Sit with what the loss feels like for those left behind, and then act from that place of human compassion.
Outrage is loud and easy. Compassion is quieter and harder. Choose the hard thing today. Care louder with your actions, not just your words.
Take care of each other,
xoxo,
Kera Sanchez, Editor-in-Chief of Get Griefy
