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Games, like grief, are not a one-size-fits-all
My mom died today.
The last month has been quiet for me, as far as writing goes. I had been running a seasonal theme for the site centered around being thankful for the games and people we love, and while the event went off well enough, there was a somber feeling within me throughout. Mom was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer some time ago, and we knew her journey around the sun was drawing to a close soon – even if we didn’t have a date or time frame it would happen within.
In my infinite wisdom, I chose to mostly just look the other way. Not a conscious decision, mind you – I was simply not involved in the day-to-day care in the way my other family members were. I visited her several times and called in to check on her, but my involvement was limited beyond that. Instead, I stayed home with my family, taking care of my child and burying myself in books and video games. I never had time to really sit and think about what was happening on the family front, because I made sure I didn’t have time to spare. I played a lot of games, but not with the intent to help me process what was happening.
Games have never really been therapeutic for me in dealing with loss or grief, as I generally have other outlets for my thoughts, like writing poetry or songs. In this particular case, gaming was not a hobby of mine that my mother approved of growing up – is that something I want to be reminded of as I play? But with so many games out there dealing with themes of loss and death, surely something can help us cope, right?
Well, maybe.
See, most games about these subjects are not instructive – that is, they do not attempt to tell you how to cope with these situations – and that is for the better. Loss and grief are unique to each person, and the many variable situations that arise from the deaths of friends or family members, and the way we process all of it, are so different that it wouldn’t benefit anyone to simply say, “do this thing and you will be happy again.” Instead, games like Gris and Spiritfarer make you a participant in the processes and proceedings surrounding death and dealing with the emotions that come from it. It offers you an opportunity to guide those characters within the game through their own struggles – struggles that are often all too familiar to its players – and help them come to terms with their grief. It is through the endeavors of these characters that we see ourselves reflected, offering new perspectives or outlooks on our own situations.
Other games, like What Remains of Edith Finch, take a slightly different approach by exploring life and memory in the face of death. As perhaps a more hopeful or explicitly positive spin on the healing journey, Edith Finch has the player taking control of the titular Edith as she wanders through her family home, viewing the life events and inner thoughts of those who came before her. It’s a strong reminder that our lives and relationships are both complicated and beautiful, despite the pain that may come with our losses along the way. We are valuable. It matters that we lived.
That Dragon, Cancer is a more familiar tale for me, as it explores Joel Green’s battle with cancer. Thinking about this game feels very raw for me now, not that it was ever an easy play. It is a sad and moving journey through the experiences of a family slowly losing someone to terminal cancer – it seems impossible not to find myself in this, even if the experiences are not a one-to-one match.
So many games out there explore these ideas, explicitly or not, and many are exceptional games, but what can be said about them if they don’t seem to help you? What is there to be done if the pain of grief and loss sticks in your throat in spite of the images on the screen, or your food turns to ash as a cheery tune blares through your headphones?
Sadly, I don’t have a great answer. For some, time may be the only cure. For others, there is no way forward without professional help. The inability of these games to help someone through their grief does not diminish their value as pieces of art, nor does it mean they can’t be useful coping mechanisms for others in similar situations. In many cases (including some of my own past experiences), the value and meaning behind these games can only be recognized when you are further removed from the trauma (or the game) itself.
These games can normalize our trials, offer comfort, and present a hopeful outlook and message – or maybe they just exist as a pleasant distraction. There’s no one way to deal with our grief and no single way to approach games about the subject. Our experiences with art are oftentimes just as much about what we bring to them as it is about the content presented to us.
While playing games likely won't help me now, maybe they will later. Maybe they already have. I think it’s worth noting that when this happened, my thoughts did turn to those games about grief and loss. This is not the first time anyone I’ve known has passed away, of course, but it is the most fresh for me. It’s still raw, and I don’t know when it will heal. But I will say this: in searching for answers during a difficult time, I arrived at the same place I started – hurt by my mother’s condition and eventual passing, but grateful for the positive memories and everything she did for me and my siblings.
Thank you, Mom. I love you.
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