The Funniest Show About Grief You Didn’t Know You Needed (or why I’m obsessed with Apple TV’s Shrinking)

There are shows you watch, and then there are shows that quietly rearrange something inside you. At its surface, Shrinking follows a grieving therapist who begins to bend the rules a bit with his patients. That premise alone could veer into gimmick territory, but instead, the show unfolds into something far more tender, layered, and unexpectedly honest. It’s not about fixing people. It’s about what happens when we stop pretending we’re fine.

What struck me most is how deeply the show understands grief. Not the polished, cinematic kind, but the messy, unpredictable, deeply personal kind. The kind that shows up uninvited at breakfast, lingers in silence, or disguises itself as humor. Every character carries it differently, and the show resists the urge to suggest there’s a “right” way to process loss. Some people implode. Some distract. Some try to outrun it. Others, bravely or recklessly, start telling the truth.

We also see forgiveness that is quiet, stubborn, and complicated. Not the grand, sweeping kind tied up in a bow, but the daily decision to soften toward someone (including yourself) even when it would be easier not to. The show treats forgiveness less like a destination and more like a practice. One that requires humility, honesty, and often, a sense of humor.

Which brings me to what might be my favorite theme: community. This isn’t a show about isolated individuals healing in neat little arcs. It’s about people bumping into each other, leaning on each other, irritating each other, and (often unintentionally) saving each other. The relationships are gloriously imperfect, deeply human, and, perhaps most importantly, interconnected. No one exists in a vacuum here, and that feels true in a way television doesn’t always capture.

The portrayal of adult relationships is especially refreshing. These aren’t static roles, but evolving dynamics shaped by history, vulnerability, and growth. Most importantly, I love how the show naturally weaves in multigenerational relationships. Parents and children, mentors and mentees, chosen family and biological family all intersect in ways that feel organic and meaningful. It reminds us that we are constantly teaching and learning from one another, whether we mean to or not.

Also worth saying plainly: it’s very, very funny. Not in a way that undercuts the heavier themes, but in a way that sits beside them. The humor feels like a coping mechanism, a pressure valve, a lifeline. It’s the kind of laughter that sneaks up on you right when you didn’t think you’d be able to laugh at all.

And the acting? Remarkable across the board. There’s a lived-in quality to these performances that makes every interaction feel real. You believe these people. You root for them, even when they’re making questionable choices. Especially then, honestly.

What Shrinking does so beautifully is hold space for contradiction. It shows how tragedy can break us open and bring people together. How parenting is both instinctual and bewildering. How love doesn’t always look like we expect it to. And how, even in the middle of grief, there can be connection, humor, and small, stubborn moments of hope.

It’s rare to find a show that is this funny and this impactful at the same time. Rarer still for it to feel this real. And maybe that’s why it lingers. Somewhere in its imperfect, searching characters, we recognize ourselves.