Dr. Brandon Gillespie
Tonight, I stood outside the Cosby Show house in New York City, reporting live on TikTok for nearly two hours.
People from all over the country joined me, sharing memories, feelings, and—what surprised many of them—grief.
Because for many, Malcolm-Jamal Warner wasn’t just an actor. He was Theo. A symbol of family, growth, possibility.
Someone we grew up with, even if we never met him.
This is the strange, powerful reality of parasocial relationships. We attach to public figures who shape our lives from afar. They feel like friends, siblings, even role models. And when they’re gone, the loss is real.
But what are we really mourning?
I think tonight, many of us weren’t just grieving Malcolm himself—we were grieving the chapters of life his presence represents. Childhood.
Family nights in front of the TV. A version of America where possibility seemed more within reach. His death pulls at those threads.
As both a therapist and a journalist, I’ve learned something important: Grief doesn’t always need logic. It just needs space.
So tonight, I held space. On a sidewalk in New York City. On a livestream watched by thousands. And here, now, with you.
We’ll miss you, Malcolm. Thank you for the stories, the music, the hope.
Rest in power.
If you’ve ever felt grief after losing someone you never met, know this: it’s valid. And you’re not alone.
