The Sandman’s swan song: A quiet grief and a final farewell

⚠️ Spoilers ahead for The Sandman Season 2 Part 1; proceed with caution.

The weight of silence

There’s a kind of heaviness that settles in after finishing Part 1 of The Sandman Season 2. Dream’s breakdown at the end; so still, so stripped of his usual poise. That silence wasn’t empty. It was loaded with sorrow, regret, exhaustion. It said everything that couldn’t be said with words; and in that moment, the weight of the season finally came crashing down.

A myth told slowly, and with care

What preceded that scene was no less intense. The reunion with Orpheus wasn’t just sad; it was devastating. There was a raw, aching honesty in how the story unfolded; a father and son bound by myth, torn apart by choices no one truly knew how to live with. It’s one of the most grounded portrayals of grief in a show filled with gods, monsters, and endless beings. And that’s the magic of The Sandman; how it manages to feel both otherworldly and deeply human, often at the same time.

Each episode in Part 1 felt deliberate. The world was quieter, more introspective than Season 1. It didn’t rush. It let scenes breathe. The camera would linger just long enough for discomfort to set in; for themes to sink under the skin rather than fly past in a blur. Even Destruction’s appearance, long anticipated by fans of the source material, arrived not with fanfare, but with warmth and wisdom. That scene alone, just two siblings talking, had more soul than entire seasons of other fantasy shows.

Anticipation laced with grief

Now, with Part 2 just days away, it’s hard not to feel conflicted. There’s excitement, of course, but it’s wrapped in sadness. It’s the kind of sadness that comes from knowing the end is near. Knowing there are only a handful of hours left before the story is done, and all we’ll have are memories; and rewatch buttons.

The echo of Good Omens

The comparisons to Good Omens are hard to avoid. While the two shows differ in tone, they share a similar creative heartbeat; each adapted from Neil Gaiman’s work, each handled with surprising care and reverence, and each reaching a premature end. Good Omens, produced by Amazon Prime Video, delivered its second season with the same warmth and wit that made its debut so beloved. It didn’t need sweeping battles or sprawling lore; like The Sandman, it focused on emotion, relationships, and big ideas told through strange, beautiful worlds. And now, both series; despite strong fanbases and critical acclaim; find themselves at the mercy of an industry in flux.

A system that doesn’t care about art

Streaming platforms are chasing profit margins more aggressively than ever, measuring success through shifting algorithms and opaque data sets. Shows are now judged not just on viewership, but on completion rates, retention stats, and whether they drive subscriber growth in key markets. Creators, even ones with proven track records like Gaiman, are increasingly subject to these metrics. His personal circumstances have further complicated ongoing production and promotion; that his work should suffer because of these external pressures feels especially unjust.

<>Fragmenting the story

Which brings us, again, to structure.

Netflix’s now-standard practice of splitting seasons into “parts” has become a sticking point. Once upon a time, it may have made sense. Maybe it helped with production schedules. Maybe it softened the post-strike delays. But now, it’s hard not to see it for what it really is; an artificial extension of engagement. A marketing tactic disguised as narrative pacing. Cobra Kai; Squid Game; Stranger Things; they’ve all suffered from this approach. Even if the content is good, the release structure dulls the emotional impact.

The Sandman, arguably more than any of those, needed to land as one cohesive whole. The pacing in Part 1 is deliberate, methodical. It builds slowly toward an emotional crest. Then it stops; and that crest is left hanging for weeks. It’s like hearing the first half of a symphony and being told to wait a month for the rest. The spell breaks. The atmosphere thins.

A final dream

None of this is to say that Volume 2 won’t be excellent. By all accounts, it promises to deliver one of the most beloved arcs in the entire series; Season of Mists. Fans already know what’s coming; the consequences of Dream’s mercy, the fallout with the Furies, and the inevitable confrontation with Lucifer. The themes will deepen. The performances will likely soar. And for a few hours, the magic will return.

But there’s no denying the ache underneath it all.

This is more than just a show ending. It’s the end of an era in fantasy television; a short-lived one, perhaps, but no less meaningful. When The Sandman first arrived, it felt like a course correction. It wasn’t trying to be the next Game of Thrones. It didn’t lean on battles or political scheming. It asked for patience. It rewarded introspection. It held still long enough for viewers to feel something.

And now it’s going. Quietly. Without scandal or cancellation drama. Just... ending.

That ending, though, might be the show’s greatest gift. Because the best stories do end. They don’t sprawl endlessly. They don’t lose their voice or forget their heart. They say what they came to say; and they leave behind a silence that means something.

So when the final credits roll, it won’t be disappointment that lingers. It’ll be gratitude. For the risks the show took. For the way it treated its characters. For the quiet moments that hit harder than any explosion ever could.

And for that one last dream; shared, and then gently let go.

The Sandman Season 2 Part 2 (or Volume 2) releases on July 24, 2025 only on Netflix.