I Watched 'Good Grief' On My Mom's Death Anniversary, Let's Talk About It
Dan Levy's Netflix film explores the unsexy parts of grief
My body was tense and ready to run as I hit play on Netflix. I often joke with my boyfriend that I don't like watching scary movies because I already run anxious and scared; why add more to the mix?
But I've wanted to watch Dan Levy's 'Good Grief' since I saw the trailer weeks ago. A movie about grief may not seem as scary to some as, say, The Shining, but once you have a personal relationship with grief, you know that nothing will ever be as scary.
Before I met grief for the first time, I was a ten-year-old girl who was just really excited to see her mom after three months apart. Then I opened the door to her hospital room, and everything changed.
She was frail and sinking into the hospital bed. My excitement turned into fear, but the context clues still didn't connect in my young brain. My body and mind couldn't process what I was seeing with how I was feeling, so as soon as I walked out of the hospital room, I fainted — complete disconnect.
On the eve of her death anniversary, I think about those few minutes a lot. Yes, I knew she was in the ICU, but I also didn’t truly understand what that meant. I knew ICU stood for Intensive Care Unit, but it’s taken years of therapy to realize that for us, it also stood for a mom who was terminally ill.
Over the last two decades, I’ve heard people say that grief is the metaphorical blob that takes the place of the physical person who once was. Yes, and if you ever witness someone dying, grief looks at you through their eyes, too. It doesn’t wait its turn until after your loved one is gone. In January 2003, my mom’s eyes were brown and griefy.
When I decided to watch this movie the weekend before my mom’s 21st death anniversary I knew it was either a really great idea or a really bad one. I wanted to watch a movie that happened to be about something I lived with, too, and I was hoping it wouldn't trigger me for the sake of moviemaking.
So, ginger-orange mocktail in hand with snow coming down our window in CT, I pressed play. I have to say as someone who has lived with grief for two decades now, it’s wild that this is how I was choosing to spend my Saturday night. I knew I would cry, but I was inviting it in. This night was one I had a hard time even daydreaming when I was a teenager or in my early twenties; I felt emotionally stable enough to live on the edge. (Yes, I still know we’re talking about Netflix.)
There’s just something pride-inducing about realizing that now what is grief-y can also be manageable.
For almost two hours, I had a great time watching an honest movie about the ebbs and flows of grief. One of my main takeaways was that I liked it for the same reason that others may not — it’s not a dramatic depiction of grief. It’s quiet, angry, and full of one-liners you never know you have in you until someone asks you about, say, your mom, and you say, “Well, she’s actually dead,” and they say, “I’m so sorry,” and you’ve maybe heard it enough times to have a chip on your shoulder so that instead of thank you, you say, “I mean, you didn’t kill her.”
But I digress.
Levy did a great job of nailing how grief in someone’s life can be incredibly monotonous, quiet, annoying, and selfish. People (myself included) aren’t trying to center themselves; it just feels like grief centers you, and you can never escape it. For 95% of the movie, grief was the undercurrent. For 5% of the screen time, it screamed. It was grief that people (myself included) expect to witness sometimes.
Levy’s character was coming up on the first anniversary of his husband’s death when his frustrations started to push his plateaued emotions aside. My mom’s death anniversary is on January 10th, and even after 21 years, I think the same happens. It’s a volcano that erupts on schedule, and the anticipation of its eruption is usually worse than the actual day simply because you have no idea if it will be a volcanic burp or a volcanic explosion.
And this happens forever.
In the movie, Levy's character has a financial advisor who is like his grief mentor. She's been through loss, too, and uses her lived experience to guide when and how she approaches conversations with him. Towards the end of the movie, she has a monologue that is some of the truest string of words on grief I've ever heard in a movie. I won't spoil it for you because you should watch it, but I will draw a connection instead.
She talks about the lives we create after losing someone we love. In the immediate aftermath, we all create a life that makes the pain bearable. The issue is that some stay there forever in a kind of purgatory. Life is easier to bear because we freeze it; you can survive what you know and choose not to feel anything new again to simply survive. For those who shovel a path out of the bearable, it isn't easy either; it's a constant fight to figure out how to live like the one who isn't dead. Because you aren’t.
The movie reminded me that it's always the fight of my life. The length of time since my mom's passing hasn't changed that. It's just given me more tools with which to persevere. I think this movie will do the same for many people.
Hi Vivian. I have been wanting to comment here for a while now. I have been following your Substack for the past year and I want to thank you for everything you share here.
I was first introduced to you when one of your tik tok videos came up on my for you page. You spoke about how people can better support those in their lives who are grieving and you mentioned that it had been 20 years since your mom died. I’ve personally never known anyone else, close to my age, that lost their parent as a young child. The fyp got reallll specific, as they say. But seriously, I am so grateful I came across that video and that it led me to your writing here.
My mom died when I was 6 years old. I too am approaching the 21st anniversary of her passing which will come in February. My sister and I often talk about the difficulties of experiencing this ongoing grief. We sometimes struggle talking about it with other people in our lives who have not experienced this type of loss. As you write about, it is an ever-changing grief—something that we have grown up with and that has affected us in so many different ways. Reading your writing has made me feel like someone finally understands.
In these past few years, I’ve been reflecting on how the experience of grieving has changed for me over time, especially as I have entered adulthood. I feel like I am finally finding those things I can do for myself to feel whatever it is I am wanting to feel, depending on the day, month, season, or year.
Near last year’s anniversary, I watched the film ‘Petite Maman’ by Céline Sciamma and, like you wrote about here, was this a choiceee I made to watch so close to that day. But I had heard such good things about it and felt ready to experience it. I’ve never seen grief portrayed through such a specific lens and the relationship between a mother and daughter explored in such a unique way. The tears were definitely flowing as the credits rolled, but sometimes I feel I need a film, or piece of art, to allow myself the opportunity to have that release. I loved your thoughts on ‘Good Grief’ and look forward to watching it!
I resonate with so much that you write here. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything that you have shared. I imagine it can’t be easy to do, but just know you have helped me feel less alone in my journey 🤍
I liked it for so very many of the same reasons. Especially the lawyer. What a beautiful reflection and piece, Viv. Thanks for sharing. PS. He also says he is an orphan and widower, I was curious if I missed the how and when....and I watched twice.