The recent passing of James Van Der Beek has brought out an overwhelming wave of love, support, and remembrance. And it should. A family has lost a husband. Children have lost their father. Friends have lost someone they shared life with. That is not a headline. That is heartbreak.
What has been harder to understand is the backlash — the criticism of people offering support, the cynical comments, the tone of “why are people making such a big deal about it?” as if grief has to pass some kind of approval process before it’s allowed.
I am extremely ashamed at how so many people seem not only out of touch with one another, but out of touch with basic humanity. Somewhere along the way, empathy became optional. Compassion became suspicious. And kindness became something people feel entitled to mock.
And yes — I am addressing the nasty remarks on Threads.
The sarcasm. The dismissiveness. The eye-rolling takes. The “why does this even matter?” crowd.
It matters because a family is grieving.
It matters because cancer is brutal.
It matters because whether you followed his career or not, a human being lost his life and children lost their father.
What I’ve seen online is disappointing at best and disturbing at worst. People hiding behind profile pictures, reducing someone’s death to a talking point or a punchline. That kind of detachment isn’t strength. It isn’t intelligence. It’s disconnection.
And if I’m being honest, I think some of the hostility toward celebrities often comes from something deeper — resentment. There are people who look at someone who pursued a creative career, worked relentlessly at their craft, faced rejection, uncertainty, and public scrutiny, and still built something meaningful… and instead of respecting that, they belittle it.
Maybe because it’s easier to mock someone’s success than to pursue your own growth. Maybe because it’s uncomfortable to see someone dedicate their life to something and earn respect for it. Hard work in the arts is still hard work. Dedication to a craft still deserves dignity and honor.
And by the way — money is not everything. It is a tool for survival. It can provide comfort and opportunity, yes. But it does not make someone less human. It does not make loss hurt less. And it certainly does not justify hatred. Don’t hate people who have more. Don’t look down on those who have less. Wealth does not measure worth. Character does.
Here’s the reality: acting is a career.
It’s not “just being famous.” It’s not “just being on TV.” It’s long hours, constant rejection, auditions, travel, sacrifice, and years of uncertainty. It’s building a life in an industry where most people don’t make it. When someone spends decades building that career, they are not simply a character on a screen. They are a human being who worked for their place in the world.
People form connections through stories. Through performances that carried them through breakups, illness, loneliness, growing up. Art matters. Storytelling matters. And the people who create it matter.
You don’t have to be a fan to be respectful.
You don’t have to admire someone’s work to honor their humanity.
You don’t have to understand someone’s career to recognize that their family is grieving.
Criticizing compassion says more about the critic than the moment.
We can disagree on politics.
We can disagree on entertainment.
We can disagree on opinions.
But grief should never be a battleground.
Celebrities are not fictional. They have spouses who cry behind closed doors. They have children who don’t care about fame — they just want their dad. They have families navigating hospital rooms, fear, and the unbearable quiet that follows loss.
Kindness costs nothing.
Compassion should never be controversial.
Respect should not require agreement.
And empathy should not come with conditions.
Sometimes the most radical thing we can do in a loud, angry world is simply choose decency.
To James Van Der Beek’s wife, children, extended family, and loved ones — my deepest and most heartfelt condolences. No public support can take away your pain, but I hope the love being shared reminds you that his work touched many lives. May you be surrounded by comfort, privacy, and strength in the days ahead. Your loss is seen, and it matters.






























