Curated Grief: The Highlight Reel
Grief Isn’t Always a Highlight Reel
As I was sharing stories about Eddie with someone — the kind of husband, father, and friend he was, I had this sudden realization: grief can start to feel curated. Filtered. Like a highlight reel.
It’s not that the good isn’t true. But it’s easy to slip into social media mode, where we only show the best pictures, the happiest moments, the most flattering angles — whether they’re the whole truth or not.

I left social media back in 2016 for many reasons. One of them was after my son, who was 11-years old at the time, asked how many “likes” he got after I posted a cute photo of him. I didn’t like how he took so much stock in what people thought of him. Another was seeing a friend post a gorgeous bouquet of roses from her boyfriend, and watching the comments roll in — “You’re so lucky,” “He’s so thoughtful” — while knowing the real, more desperate reason those flowers were sent.
That same kind of social media filtering can take hold when grieving. My thoughts about Eddie are always positive. I remember the good times. I talk about how amazing he was. So when someone hears those stories and says, “Wow, he sounds perfect,” I realize: if I only share the good, they’ll only know the good.
As I try to come to terms with Eddie’s sudden death and move through and carry my grief, I feel it’s important to say that, like all of us, Eddie was not perfect. He had his quirks. He did things that annoyed me. And for the most part, I never shared those things with others. They were not big or awful things. They were the tiny things that, if I could have him back to annoy me now, I’d welcome with a smile. Like when he would sometimes put his shoes on the bed. Or when he used this one particular plate to cut his food, and the sound of the knife scraping against it was like nails on a chalkboard. Yes, that bothered me.
Eddie was the best person to ever enter my life. He was honest, loyal, calm, smart, wickedly funny, attentive, present, supportive, romantic. And also human. Remembering him fully — not just the highlight reel — feels more genuine, more loving, more true.
So if you’re grieving someone, or remembering someone, it’s okay to hold both. The beautiful and the annoying. The sacred and the silly. You don’t have to filter your memories. You don’t have to make them perfect. You just have to make them yours.
If this resonates with you—if you’re navigating your own version of loss—I’d love to hear how you’re moving forward. What helps you feel strong, even on the hard days? Leave a comment or share your story. We’re not alone in this.
Read an introduction to the book I’m writing about later-in-life love, communication, blended families, living life to the fullest, health & fitness, loss, grief and navigating a new life. Introduction.
Need support? Here are resources I found that offer grief and loss support – mentalhealthhotline.org, The Maven Clinic, and grief.com.
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