Billie Lourd's Heartbreaking Confession: 'I'm Jealous of People Older Than Mom'

Max Sterling, 10/22/2025 In a gut-punch of honesty, Billie Lourd's tribute to Carrie Fisher serves up grief like a complex cocktail of emotions. Her Instagram post perfectly captures that peculiar space where anger dances with love, and memories of a gone-too-soon mom collide with the realities of raising kids who'll never know their legendary grandmother.

"It feels like she has been dead so long that she should be 100 at this point," Lourd wrote, somehow managing to nail that bizarre temporal distortion that follows profound loss. The observation hits home — there's something about premature death that makes the math feel wrong, like a equation that refuses to balance.

The post, raw and unfiltered in true Lourd fashion, dives deep into territory familiar to anyone who's lost someone too soon. That peculiar jealousy that surfaces when encountering people older than your departed loved one? Yeah, she goes there. It's the kind of admission that makes you wince in recognition, even as you admire the courage it takes to voice it.

Lourd's description of grief as a "weird soup of feelings" feels spot-on — especially as she navigates parenthood without her mother's guidance. Her kids, Kingston Fisher (5) and Jackson Joanne (2), will know their grandmother primarily through stories and screen appearances. It's a reality that hit home recently when Kingston started asking questions about his grandmother's death.

The way Lourd handled that conversation speaks volumes. "I told him that she didn't take care of her body," she shared, threading the needle between truth and age-appropriate explanation. It's the kind of parenting moment that probably would've made Fisher proud — and maybe laugh that signature laugh of hers.

Speaking of Fisher — what a force of nature she was. Her departure in December 2016, followed days later by the loss of Lourd's grandmother Debbie Reynolds, could've broken a lesser spirit. But here's Lourd, nearly a decade later, showing us how to dance with grief's ever-changing rhythms.

Perhaps most striking is her candid admission about being angry at someone who's no longer here to receive it. "It's weird being mad at a dead person because you don't really have anywhere to put the emotion," she observed. Anyone who's ever felt frustrated with a departed loved one's choices just nodded in agreement.

Yet through it all — the complicated emotions, the what-ifs, the might-have-beens — Lourd has found ways to celebrate the "brilliant magical human" her mother was. Sometimes it's through sharing stories, sometimes through watching movies, and sometimes through something as simple as cracking open an ice-cold Coca-Cola, just like Mom used to do.

As 2025 unfolds, Lourd's reflection on loss feels particularly resonant. In an era where social media often pressure-cooks grief into perfectly packaged platitudes, her messy, honest approach hits different. The "soup," as she puts it, has made her stronger — more aware of life's brevity, more grateful for its joys.

Her story reminds us that healing doesn't mean forgetting. Sometimes it means holding space for all of it — the love, the anger, the disappointment, and yes, even the occasional laugh at memories of a mother who blazed across the Hollywood sky like a brilliant, unforgettable comet.

Time has a peculiar way of bending around loss. Just ask Billie Lourd, whose recent Instagram tribute to her mother Carrie Fisher — on what would've been the Star Wars icon's 69th birthday — captures the strange mathematics of grief with startling clarity."It feels like she has been dead so long that she should be 100 at this point," Lourd wrote, somehow managing to nail that bizarre temporal distortion that follows profound loss. The observation hits home — there's something about premature death that makes the math feel wrong, like a equation that refuses to balance.The post, raw and unfiltered in true Lourd fashion, dives deep into territory familiar to anyone who's lost someone too soon. That peculiar jealousy that surfaces when encountering people older than your departed loved one? Yeah, she goes there. It's the kind of admission that makes you wince in recognition, even as you admire the courage it takes to voice it.Lourd's description of grief as a "weird soup of feelings" feels spot-on — especially as she navigates parenthood without her mother's guidance. Her kids, Kingston Fisher (5) and Jackson Joanne (2), will know their grandmother primarily through stories and screen appearances. It's a reality that hit home recently when Kingston started asking questions about his grandmother's death.The way Lourd handled that conversation speaks volumes. "I told him that she didn't take care of her body," she shared, threading the needle between truth and age-appropriate explanation. It's the kind of parenting moment that probably would've made Fisher proud — and maybe laugh that signature laugh of hers.Speaking of Fisher — what a force of nature she was. Her departure in December 2016, followed days later by the loss of Lourd's grandmother Debbie Reynolds, could've broken a lesser spirit. But here's Lourd, nearly a decade later, showing us how to dance with grief's ever-changing rhythms.Perhaps most striking is her candid admission about being angry at someone who's no longer here to receive it. "It's weird being mad at a dead person because you don't really have anywhere to put the emotion," she observed. Anyone who's ever felt frustrated with a departed loved one's choices just nodded in agreement.Yet through it all — the complicated emotions, the what-ifs, the might-have-beens — Lourd has found ways to celebrate the "brilliant magical human" her mother was. Sometimes it's through sharing stories, sometimes through watching movies, and sometimes through something as simple as cracking open an ice-cold Coca-Cola, just like Mom used to do.As 2025 unfolds, Lourd's reflection on loss feels particularly resonant. In an era where social media often pressure-cooks grief into perfectly packaged platitudes, her messy, honest approach hits different. The "soup," as she puts it, has made her stronger — more aware of life's brevity, more grateful for its joys.Her story reminds us that healing doesn't mean forgetting. Sometimes it means holding space for all of it — the love, the anger, the disappointment, and yes, even the occasional laugh at memories of a mother who blazed across the Hollywood sky like a brilliant, unforgettable comet.