Gaming Through Grief
Finding Light in the Comfort of Play
A game of Smallworld with dear friends many years ago
Some days, games are there to challenge me. To push my limits, to make me think harder, plan better, strategize more deeply. And other days, games are more like glue. Something that holds me together, imparting a sense of normalcy and routine. Games have the power to remind me that I can still win, no matter my current circumstance.
Two weeks ago, I lost the mother of my child, suddenly, while I was on the other side of the country. And I am still reeling with sadness, anger, nausea, and guilt. My mind feels broken.
Many of the games I used to love diving into feel too demanding now - Fortnite, Magic: the Gathering, and even Clash Royale have fallen out of rotation. Nuanced strategy and quick decision making feel like impossible tasks when I'm still struggling to process all the broken patterns and routines in my daily life. My mind is heavy and slow and upside down. In these moments, I search for simple comforts to give me strength.
One of these simple comforts is a mobile game called Kingland. Most of the game is played for me. The villagers in my kingdom gather resources while I'm away. When I return, I just drag my finger across their depots to collect their resources and put them into my king's supply. Each resource I gather brings a pop of color and tiny vibration to my phone. Then, I spend my resources to grow my kingdom. Rinse and repeat. It lets me understand that some things still make sense, that I can still win.
Plants vs. Zombies 2
The physical act of gaming has also proven to be a welcome comfort. Keeping my hands busy keeps my mind calmer. Some of my happiest moments now come from playing Plants vs Zombies 2 with my six-year-old son and his younger cousin. We work together as a team, tapping to place new plants and gather the sun's energy floating across the screen. These simple actions create islands of peace in our sea of sadness.
Like Plants vs Zombies 2, Mario Maker 2 gives us space to play together, but with an added gift - the ability to create. I've helped both my son and his cousin build their first levels and share them with the world.
a meowser with goombas
dangerland
My son's level, "a meowser with goombas" (Course ID: D5S-FXD-NLF), is basically just a straight line of somewhat escalating challenges, with an infinite supply of power-ups to get you through the end. His cousin's "dangerland" (Course ID: VCR-VD6-GRF) is pure chaos and joy, exactly what you'd expect from a three-year-old's imagination.
I’ve also used our recent time together to teach my son how to play my personal favorite game from childhood: Stratego. Though he's not quite old enough to grasp all its complexities, watching him engage with it has sparked something new. He's now helping me reimagine a prototype I've been working on inspired by that game. His shorter attention span and natural pull toward "Fun" helps us distill my sometimes complex ideas into ones that feel more playful and pure. In these design sessions, we're not just playing a game - we're building something together, finding ways to make old memories shine in a new light.
Quiet moments of play in which old games light the way forward
In the midst of processing our loss, these moments of shared play give us back a sense of control when so much feels beyond our power. Games become our safe space to laugh, to create, to feel joy again. They remind us that even in darkness, we can still build a new light together. That somewhere between the taps, clicks, and quiet moments of play, we're finding our way forward, one small victory at a time.
From mobile games to treasured classics, every gaming experience holds different meaning for different people. What games help light your way through dark times? I'd love to hear your stories in the comments below. Until next time, be gentle with yourself and keep playing.