Every loss reaches further than we see. By one estimate, each death from COVID-19 in the United States left about nine close relatives grieving, a ripple researchers call the bereavement multiplier.1 And death is only one kind of loss.
What many of us describe as an unexplained sadness, anxiety, or malaise is often unrecognized and unprocessed grief. We're grieving futures we imagined for ourselves that are no longer possible: identities built on careers and jobs, strained relationships and estrangement, fertility and child loss, places we can never return to, and all of the things we've lost and never held a funeral for.
And in this period of pronounced grief, whether we call it that or not, we lack the resources to identify it, let alone deal with it, and many of us would rather not look at it at all.
The Museum addresses aspects of both: a public space to name what we feel and people to feel it with.
It offers alternatives, not replacements, for existing resources like therapy. It is not therapy. It offers no diagnosis or treatment, and no one is asked to share more than they choose. This approach is consistent with a World Health Organization review of more than 3,000 studies, which found that the arts play a major role in promoting health and well-being.6
Research on grief shows that healthy grieving often involves continuing a bond with the person who died rather than letting go. The Museum honors that relationship with an object or an original work that says: this person, place, or version of me is part of my story.7
Studies have shown that some people experience positive change after a major life struggle, such as deeper relationships, new possibilities, and a renewed appreciation for life. The Museum shows that growth can come from what people create through loss, without asking anyone to be grateful for the loss itself.8
Researchers describe disenfranchised grief as grief that is not openly acknowledged, publicly mourned, or socially supported, such as the loss of a pet, a pregnancy, a job, or a marriage. By displaying these losses alongside deaths, the Museum gives them the public recognition they often lack.9
During the first exhibit, a mother who had recently lost her son to suicide introduced herself and shared her story. I immediately thought of two artists in the exhibit, with different stories and backgrounds, who had both lost sons to suicide. I showed her their work and, after the Museum, connected her with them, remembering how much I had wished for people in my life who "got it."
Museum visitors are immediately met with realness. They see the work and stories of real people who have faced the death of a child to suicide, the unexpected end of a marriage, and estrangement from family. They leave with the reassurance that they are not alone.