Liam Payne: Beloved celebrity’s death can be painful – but collective grief can help

Fans light candles outside the hotel where former One Direction singer Liam Payne was found dead after he fell from a balcony in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Wednesday, Oct. 16, 2024. (AP Photo/Natacha Pisarenko)

Sam Carr, University of Bath and Chao Fang, University of Liverpool

One of my (Sam’s) earliest memories is from 1980, when John Lennon was tragically assassinated. I vividly recall my mother’s reaction upon hearing the news – she put down the phone, overwhelmed with grief.

Her connection to Lennon, someone she’d never met, was deeply personal. This moment, even though I was only three years old, left a lasting impression and showed me how profound these attachments can be. For my mother, Lennon wasn’t just a famous figure. He represented a significant part of her life and emotions.

If you’re a One Direction fan, you may be feeling a similar kind of grief over the tragic death of band member Liam Payne. Some fans have described Payne’s loss as akin to “losing a family member” or feeling like they’ve “lost a big part of their childhood”.

This collective mourning illustrates how deeply ingrained celebrities can become in our lives, not just as entertainers, but as symbols of our personal experiences and memories.

Olivia, 23, tried to describe her sense of loss to a BBC reporter:

It was my first feeling of being in love, my first feeling of crushing on a boy, of being excited about boys. I kissed the posters every night. We all did. It felt like you were part of the best club in the world and it’s a huge part of why we bonded together.

This form of attachment is known as a parasocial relationship, an emotional connection formed with someone who is unaware of the bond. Unlike personal relationships, where both parties contribute to the connection, parasocial relationships allow fans to project idealised traits onto celebrities, unchallenged by reality.

In this way, celebrities often represent aspirational versions of ourselves or embody significant aspects of our identity. When they die, the emotional experience of grief is not just about the person, but about losing part of that imagined connection.

The death of a beloved celebrity shatters something that feels deeply meaningful, and can leave you grappling with an emotional void. The loss is not just of a public figure, but of a personal connection that may have shaped your identity and sense of belonging.

This profound sense of grief is often also shared. Following Payne’s sudden death, fans have gathered worldwide, from the UK to the Philippines and Argentina, to sing and mourn at vigils for the star. A similar phenomenon was also observed in September, when Harry Potter fans raised wands at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park in Orlando. They were paying tribute to Maggie Smith, who played the popular character Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter films, following her death aged 89.

Collective grief is a common reaction when an influential figure dies. These shared acts of mourning are not only socially significant but also have the power to foster empathy, transforming collective pain and public emotion into meaningful memories of social solidarity and communal strength.

While fans will mourn their star regardless of age, there’s a stark contrast between the deaths of Smith and Payne. Smith’s passing is generally viewed as a “good” death, marking the end of “a true legend”, while Payne’s death at 31 is seen as “a bad, sad ending”. The way that we grieve celebrities is often connected to their age. When Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman died in 2020 aged 43, it shattered many fans’ sense of hope for the future.

For many Payne fans, the singer was their “first love”. Falling in love with celebrities, as psychoanalysts like Aldo Carotenuto have argued, elicits a projection of idealised fantasy that becomes interwoven with our vision of the future. This temporal aspect of fandom is rooted in our sense of narrative identity, through which we view life as a continuing book. The death of a young star can powerfully disrupt this plot and leave you grappling with an unresolved chapter in your own story.

One Direction fans often call themselves “directioners”. Losing a core member of the group has led some directioners to feel this identity is now threatened or altered. The disruption to your sense of identity following the death of a young celebrity that you grew up alongside can be profound. It signifies not only the loss of a cherished part of your past but also serves as a painful reminder of the passage of time and the fragility of life.

This reality can force you to confront your own mortality, highlighting the finite nature of existence. In times of collective mourning, people reflect on their own lives and aspirations while cherishing the memories and legacies of those they admired.

Moving forward without them

Despite the deep pain of grieving, fans often engage in what grief experts call “continuing bonds” – an effort to maintain a connection with the celebrity through memories, tributes or ongoing engagement with their work.

This bond helps to reestablish a sense of order, providing emotional continuity even in the face of loss. The bonds we form with celebrities are often more meaningful than they first appear. Sociologist Jackie Stacey has examined how memories tied to celebrities can profoundly shape and sustain a sense of meaning throughout our lives.

From a life course perspective, early experiences with a favourite star can become deeply embedded in your identity, acting as enduring sources of comfort, inspiration and self-expression.

Though his life has been cut short, the memories and inspiration Payne provided will continue to live on among his fans. As directioners gathered outside the Buenos Aires hotel where he passed away, they sang One Direction songs, including the poignant line: “This is not the end.”

Sam Carr, Reader in Education with Psychology and Centre for Death and Society, University of Bath and Chao Fang, Lecturer in Sociology, Deputy Director of the Centre for Ageing and the Life Course, University of Liverpool

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.