Dead Curious spoke to thanatologist Cole Imperi about shadowloss, grief language and why death belongs in everyday community life.

Q: You have said before that death touches everything, finances, relationships, identity. Do you think people underestimate how much of life is structured around death?

A: Absolutely.

If we look at death simply as an event, it is remarkable. We all live knowing that one day it will happen. It will be the final experience each of us has. Even when we are not consciously thinking about it, it still shapes the way we live.

If we did not die, there would be no urgency. Mortality creates momentum. We are time-limited creatures, and that limit is what makes us begin things, finish things and commit to things. Anyone with ADHD will tell you about the power of a deadline, and death is, ultimately, the great deadline.

That has shaped my own life. My first book, A Guide to Grief, came out in 2024 and is for readers aged 10 to 14. I knew from working in hospice that I did not want to reach my own deathbed regretting that I had never published a book. That awareness pushed me to do something very difficult. Publishing a book is hard, but death was part of what motivated me to do it.

Q: Can you talk about the School of American Thanatology and how it has changed death education?

A: I founded the School of American Thanatology, at the start of the pandemic. In this context, “American” refers to the Americas, North America, Central America and South America, because I believe thanatology as practised across the Americas has its own distinct perspective.

The school came from a very honest place. The pandemic was hitting, people were reaching out, and I thought: I will teach a class on what thanatology can offer in a global crisis. That class grew very quickly, and I ended up building a full online platform around it.

Six years later, we have students in more than 30 countries. We have delivered programmes in English and beyond, and we recently partnered with the Art of Dying Institute in the United States. We are now the home of the Integrative Thanatology credential, and we are in the middle of our first cohort.

My ethos is that we need more non-clinical tools, techniques and theories, not instead of clinical ones, but alongside them. We already have strong clinical frameworks, research, theories and licensed practitioners. But we have far less recognition of non-clinical forms of support. My work focuses on how those can be meaningful and integrated.

Q: One thing our readers say they fear most is the process of dying. How do you respond to that?

A: I often ask people if they remember being born.

Birth is extraordinary. You go from being inside another body, breathing what is essentially liquid, to suddenly breathing air. It is an immense transition, and yet none of us remember it.

Dying can be thought of alongside birth. The body knows how to be born, and the body knows how to die. As death approaches, the body begins a natural shutdown process. Different systems and senses gradually change. Hearing is often one of the last senses to remain. Vision changes. Touch changes. The body closes programmes down.

That does not mean dying is always simple or painless, especially when medical intervention is involved. But fundamentally, the body is built to do this. There can be comfort in trusting that your body knows how to die, just as it knew how to be born.

Q: Can we talk about the term you coined, “shadow loss”? 

A: Shadow loss came to be because I needed it.

It is a non-clinical term I developed about 11 years ago. You cannot be diagnosed with it. It describes a loss in life, rather than a loss of life.

Everything we grieve is either a death loss or a shadow loss. A death loss is when someone or something dies. There is a body, there are rituals, and society recognises that grief. A shadow loss is anything you grieve that does not have a physical death, a divorce, a friendship ending, a future you thought you were going to have.

The key is that it is everyday language. In this field, you learn clinical terms like “disenfranchised grief”, but those were developed for diagnosis and treatment. In everyday life, that language can create distance rather than connection.

We do not have enough non-clinical tools, and language is one of them. I needed a word that allowed me to communicate what I was experiencing without having to explain everything.

I was assaulted, and during the legal process I lost huge parts of my life. I was grieving intensely and had to keep retelling what had happened. Every time you retell a trauma, you relive it. That contributed to my post-traumatic stress disorder.

Shadow loss gave me a way to say: I am grieving. This is what it is. I need support. It allowed me to protect myself without retraumatising myself.

What has been striking is how far the term has travelled. At the School of American Thanatology we analyse public posts globally, and “shadow loss” has moved into multiple languages without any direct promotion. That suggests it is filling a gap. People need language that is not diagnostic, something they can use for themselves that reduces emotional labour.

Q: Do you think people try to resolve grief rather than witness it?

A: Absolutely.

Grief is often treated as something to fix. Part of that comes from the idea that grief is simply an emotion, a form of sadness. But grief is not an emotion. It is a multi-system response to loss.

It can show up physically, emotionally, socially, cognitively or behaviourally. People experience it differently. My own grief is often physical. I get lower back pain, my lips become chronically chapped. I did not understand that when I was younger.

If we reduce grief to sadness, we miss how it actually manifests. So yes, people try to solve it, but grief does not need to be fixed. It needs to be recognised.

Q: What does it look like to show up well for someone who is grieving?

A: Grievers do not want to be fixed. They want to be seen.

People often ask how to do that. The answer is curiosity. If someone tells you they are grieving, ask what it feels like. Listen without trying to correct or improve it.

It is about standing beside someone and looking at the loss with them, not trying to take it away.

See it. Do not fix it.

Q: You also consult on film and television. What does that involve?

A: Since moving to Los Angeles, that side of my work has expanded. People working in film, television and podcasting hire me as a consultant.

Sometimes I review scripts, sometimes I work at the concept stage. I also consult on true crime and long-form audio.

What I bring is an understanding of death and grief that can deepen storytelling. If a narrative includes death, there are layers that are often missed. I help identify those, not just the death itself, but the people around it, the rituals and the aftermath.

I am especially interested in work that reaches wider audiences.

Q: What is one common myth about grief you would like to dispel?

A: That grief is an emotion.

Grief is not an emotion, though emotions are part of it. It is a response to loss.

Q: What is one thing people should say more often to those who are grieving?

A: “I see you.”

Q: And what is the most powerful lesson death has taught you?

A: I am lucky to be here.