Social Media and Grief: What I Learned About Sharing Loss Online
- Val Blair
- Sep 19
- 4 min read
Balancing vulnerability, privacy, and the search for connection.
When I first started A Light in the Chaos, it wasn’t meant to be a brand or even a resource for others. It began as a journal, a way to capture pieces of my grief before they slipped away.
After Derek died, I found myself forgetting things, almost as if my mind had gone foggy to protect me.
I didn’t want to lose the memories of him, too, so I opened a WordPress blog as a place to remember, to give my voice somewhere to land.
My first three posts became the foundation: reflections on Susannah Conway’s This I Know: Notes on Unraveling the Heart, a response to reading Love Beyond Life, and then, eventually, the story of Derek’s passing.
Looking back, it felt incredibly vulnerable to write about something so raw.
But in that moment, I didn’t have to decide whether or not to share; WordPress chose for me.
It automatically pushed my post to Facebook, and strangely, I was grateful.
It removed the weight of clicking “publish” myself.
That was my introduction to grieving online: a mix of hesitation, relief, and the unexpected comfort of having my story witnessed.
Not long after, Facebook introduced the option to “memorialize” someone’s page.
I chose to do that for Derek, adding his photo and a short note so people would know.
Experts note that memorial pages have become a common way for people to maintain continuing bonds with their loved ones, offering a shared space for memory and connection (Psychology Today).
That space quickly became a gathering point.
Friends, coworkers, and people from different parts of our lives began sharing their condolences, their memories, and their love for him.
I responded to every single message, no matter how brief, because it mattered to me to honor not just Derek, but the effort people made to reach out.
In that process, something unexpected happened: I reconnected with people I hadn’t spoken to in years, and those renewed relationships carried me in ways I didn’t know I needed.
I also became closer to members of Derek’s family whom I had never met before.
Meeting his family was bittersweet: heartbreaking without him there, but also a gift that brought new connection where distance had been.
Research has shown that online spaces can reduce feelings of isolation in grief, especially when they create opportunities for community and remembrance (National Library of Medicine).
Of course, the experience of posting online wasn’t perfect.
There were unkind comments, but I was lucky; I had friends who acted as gatekeepers, stepping in when things crossed a line so I didn’t have to carry that weight myself.
At the same time, studies caution that social media can also intensify stress through unwanted comments or the pressure to present grief in certain ways (British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy).
I know not everyone has that.
For some, the online space can be more painful than healing.
Still, for me, those early days of grieving online showed how social media could create unexpected threads of connection, even in sorrow.
Over the years, my relationship with sharing grief online has shifted.
In the beginning, posting was about survival, a way to have a voice, to connect with other widows and widowers, and to keep my memories in a place I could return to.
Now, when I share, I do it through A Light in the Chaos.
My focus is more on turning my mess into a message, a way of letting others know they are not alone.
I’ve created a few quiet rules for myself. I don’t share every detail of Derek’s life or the most intimate pieces of our story; some memories remain just mine.
What I do share are the things that feel universal: the signs, the synchronicities, the ways grief continues to ripple through my life, and how to navigate it.
I always frame it as my experience, knowing others’ journeys look different.
And I don’t post for the sake of posting, I share when I believe my words might offer comfort, companionship, or clarity for someone else.
Gentle Takeaways for Sharing Grief Online
Make it yours. Share from your own experience and in your own words. Grief has no single script.
Protect what’s sacred. Keep the moments that feel too tender just for yourself. If you want to capture them, write them into a private journal or a letter instead of posting them publicly.
You don’t have to share. Some people post openly; others never do, and both are valid. Choose what feels safe for you.
It’s okay to step back. You don’t have to share everything or often. If posting feels like a burden instead of a release, it’s a sign to pause.
Set boundaries around feedback. You don’t have to read every comment. Ask a trusted friend to be a “gatekeeper,” or turn comments off if you want to share without opening a conversation.
There is no one right way to grieve, not in life, and not online. For me, social media became a place of memory and connection, a bridge between past and present, sorrow and support. For others, it may feel like too much. The point isn’t whether you share, but that you permit yourself to choose.
If you want to talk this through with someone who gets it, I offer a free 15-minute gentle check-in.
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