When Haru Was Here by Dustin Thao – Grief, Ghosts, and Growing Up

When Haru Was Here by Dustin Thao is a touching exploration of grief, denial, and emotional survival told through the eyes of Eric, a teenage boy coping with the death of his best friend. Set between Chicago and Japan, this novel dives deep into the fragmented mind of a boy who is trying to stay afloat in a world that’s quietly crumbling.

It’s one of those books that hits softly but steadily — a story about invisible pain, quiet friendship, and the desperate need to feel okay again. While the novel leans heavily into YA territory (a bit too much for my nearly 30-year-old soul), it’s still a thoughtful read.

If you need something similar from the perspective of an adult, Green Dot by Madeleine Gray is an interesting read about love and loss.

Eric is a teenager from Chicago, grieving the loss of his best friend Daniel. From the first page, it’s clear he’s not coping in a healthy way, but it’s also not loud or dramatic — just that familiar numbness. You know that quiet grief where everything around you seems fine, but there is something deep inside, a void that can never be filled, and a pain that cannot be named. That’s what Eric feels.

But here’s the twist — Eric keeps seeing Haru, a Japanese boy he met during a trip to Japan when Daniel (and — MAJOR SPOILER WARNING — Jasmine, his sister) were still alive. Haru becomes his emotional anchor, the one he talks to when things get too heavy. Except… we’re never quite sure if Haru is real or just a figment of Eric’s imagination.

That uncertainty? It’s beautifully handled. And the heartbreak builds slowly until, in the final chapters, we realize what Eric has truly been running from: he didn’t just lose Daniel, he lost Jasmine, too. The revelation hits hard, not because it’s sudden, but because it feels like something we should’ve seen, and yet didn’t. It mirrors the way denial works in real life, quiet and powerful.

The final scene, where Jasmine and Haru say goodbye, is honestly one of the most painful and softest closures I’ve read. It hurts in a way that’s hard to describe. Despite being extremely melancholic, the book does have a happy ending as Eric actually spots Haru in Chicago and they start afresh.

Thao knows how to write grief — not in the ugly crying way but in the I’m not okay and I don’t even know how to say it kind of way. The narrative is very easy and flows naturally, and while it is clearly written for a younger audience, it still feels mature in its emotional scope.

What really stood out to me was the balance between reality and imagination. The entire Haru storyline blurs the line between mental escape and spiritual connection, and Thao somehow makes it believable without over-explaining. You don’t spend time questioning if Haru is real or not — you’re too busy feeling the weight of Eric’s heart.

That said, the pacing does lag a bit in the middle. I found myself emotionally involved, but also wishing something would happen. It’s introspective, which is great, but a bit too still at times. Maybe that’s the point of the author to show grief this way, but I really wanted something to happen.

Eric is a beautifully written character. He’s broken but functioning, deeply kind, and relatable in the way that only people who are quietly suffering can be. He doesn’t cry or scream. He just quietly breaks a little more every day. I have shared quick reviews of some pretty sad books if you are into that genre, click here for sad book recs.

I also loved Eric’s friends. They feel like the kind of people who exist in the margins of grief, unsure what to say, but still showing up. Thao captures that awkward kindness of teenage friendships really well. They’re not dramatic saviors, just people who care in their own quiet ways.

Haru remains a mystery till the end. Real or not, he’s the heart of the book. He’s calm, thoughtful, and present, which is everything Eric needs.

The novel is built around one core theme: grief. But not the explosive kind. The book explores quiet grief, denial, and the lies we tell ourselves to survive. Eric doesn’t even acknowledge Jasmine’s death until the very end, and neither do we. It’s a brilliant depiction of how deep denial can go, especially in teenagers who are expected to bounce back or be strong.

Another beautiful theme is emotional connection. In a world full of technology, anxiety, and disconnection, When Haru Was Here shows how essential human (or imagined-human) connection is. Haru may or may not be real, but his presence is what helps Eric survive. That’s enough. Also, Haru appears at the end, and things start to get better.

The book also deals with the complexities of teenage grief. Unlike many adult grief novels, this one understands that teenagers aren’t always surrounded by healthy coping mechanisms. They bottle things up, withdraw from family, and sometimes create imaginary spaces to process what they can’t say out loud. Eric’s detachment from his parents and his complete silence about Jasmine felt heartbreakingly real. It reminded me how many teens are walking around with grief they’ve never unpacked.

There’s also a subtle but powerful message about starting over. When the worst happens, can you build something again? Can you trust life again? The answer isn’t easy or clear, but Thao leaves us with hope — and sometimes that’s all you need.

When Haru Was Here by Dustin Thao is written in a way that feels easy to read, yet it still hits hard emotionally. The scenes are described so well that you can picture them clearly, and the feelings behind the words really stick with you.

Eric talks about his depression and grief in a way that’s simple but powerful. At one point, he says:

“It’s a feeling that comes and goes, reminding me that even in a crowded room, I’m still alone. That no one even knows I’m here. It’s like there’s a wall between me and the rest of the world. I’m always on the outside, staring through a screen.” (p. 34)

When he talks about losing his close friend, you can feel how much it hurts. He admits:

“Sometimes I pretend he’s not actually dead. I imagine he moved away to a remote island, somewhere without signal, making it impossible to stay in touch. It makes things a little easier, pretending he’s alive somewhere else, even if we’re not together.” (p. 41)

The book is full of short lines that just stay with you:

“You forget how much you miss someone until they’re right in front of you again.” (p. 51)

“Some of the best love stories are born out of tragedies.” (p. 135)

“Sometimes it feels like I’m stuck in this spot while the rest of the world is moving around me.” (p. 244)

Things get intense toward the end, and you can really feel Eric’s exhaustion:

“I feel my body slowly shutting down. I don’t care what happens to me tonight. All I want is to fall asleep and disappear from the world. I’m tired of waiting for people who are never coming. As my mind slowly drifts off, everything around me fades to nothing.” (p. 265)

He also talks about how sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we don’t win:

“Sometimes life gives us battles that we end up losing. As much as we try to fight through it” (p. 269)

And finally, he sums up the fleeting nature of human connections and relationships:

“It’s strange how people can come into your life and disappear from it. It makes you wonder if they were ever really there.” (p. 280)

This book doesn’t sugarcoat grief. It doesn’t try to fix it or tie it up with a happy ending. Instead, it shows how loss becomes a part of us, how it changes the way we see the world, and how love and memories can stay long after someone is gone.

The best thing about When Haru Was Here is the depiction of grief and denial. It is raw and realistic in Thao’s fictional world.

Thao creates characters realistically. Haru’s presence, whether real or imagined, is beautifully written and emotionally intense. The twist about Jasmine is handled with such subtlety and respect that it doesn’t feel cheap or dramatic.

The narrative overall is super easy to follow and emotionally engrossing. The theme of friendship is handled really well. The friendships in the novel are wholesome and real. If you are into easy narratives with mature themes, I recently reviewed Annie Bot by Sierra Greer, which is a very good start.

It feels a little too YA for me. I get that’s the target audience, but as someone nearing 30, I did find myself wanting something more mature or emotionally layered.

Something felt… missing? Maybe it’s the stillness, or maybe the emotional arc didn’t go quite deep enough for me.

Some parts dragged a little, especially the middle. A few scenes felt repetitive or too internal without much development.

When Haru Was Here is a gentle, haunting, and quietly devastating story of teenage grief. While I didn’t love it as much as I hoped, it still left a soft bruise on my heart, the kind of ache that lingers long after you close the book.

It’s not perfect, but it’s important, especially for younger readers who are silently grieving or feeling lost. I strongly recommend it for all the teenagers out there, but do check the trigger warnings. The romantic relationship in the book might not be suitable for everyone. However, Dustin Thao captures that lost-in-your-head feeling way better than most authors ever could.

If you’re into soft, introspective stories that deal with grief, denial, and emotional survival, give this one a shot.

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