“We can’t hide grief from our bodies. It must be carried someplace, and often that’s within the deep pockets of our heart and soul, migrating out through the crevices of our body.”
I’d never heard of secondary losses. – When I lost you, I thought I knew what I had lost. I lost everything I knew to be you.
Your dark, curly hair and your mischievous smile were no longer. Your risky grit and out-of-the-box thinking were desperately longed for. I lost your pure motivation and rigorous mindset for success. Your sacrificial sweetness and innate ability and desire to encourage were greatly missed.
I lost my baby.
My child.
I lost you.
I was unaware of the secondary losses that would soon plague my life. Secondary losses after child loss span every crevice of your life. Unfortunately, I didn’t know to expect them. Nor did I know that they were completely normal.
Shortly after your death, I realized I’d lost so much more. Suddenly, I felt lost. Confused. Shattered. I realized so much of who I was and who I ever wanted to be was based on having you here by my side. What was the point of anything anymore? Nothing mattered without you. It appeared as though I’d lost everything.
10 Secondary Losses After Child Loss:
I can’t help but to think that there must be others who are experiencing the same feelings. Lost. Confused. Shattered. I hope they know that they are NOT alone. Below, I’ve listed ten things I lost when I lost you. There’s so much I could list.
Josh, I love you, sweetie.❤️
1 – The Secondary Loss of Future Dream Together
Josh, when I lost you, I lost our dreams. I dreamt of days of seeing you meet your goals. You had so many. I wanted to be there, cheering you on as you met them. I wanted to tell you it was all worth it, and to confirm that it was okay to be the maverick that you were. I LOVED you just the way your were. Outlier’s rule.
When I lost you I lost the dream of you getting a serious girlfriend, inviting her over for dinner, and eventually marrying. I lost that when I lost you. I lost the idea of walking into your home, on a quick impromptu visit, tidying things up along the way, and leaving something yummy for you to eat later. I lost seeing you be the wonderful father I knew you would be.
You were such a patient teacher, so encouraging. You sincerely knew how to meet every person you came in contact with where they were; no judgement. I loved that about you.
I lost our dreams, when I lost you.
2 – The Secondary Loss of Future Redemptions
Josh, everything’s redeemable. Everyone’s redeemable, and I knew that meant me too. I believed that. I believed that my many mistakes, tiny and big, would be redeemed sometime in the future. I believed one day, after a bad hair day or unfortunate clothing mishap at work, you’d thank me for the time I dressed you up so very mismatched on opposite day. Ohhh, you were so upset when you came home that day. My poor baby. I still think about that day. I know exactly what you wore. But, I knew… one day, that mistake would be redeemed. You’d drop by, one day in your late twenties, early thirties and say, “Mom, remember that day you dressed me up all crazy for school? Thanks…” But, that day never came.
We were never given a chance for that day to happen. I was never able to right my wrongs. The times I was too hard on you, though I apologized, I wanted to see redemption play out. I wanted to see that I hadn’t done anything too hard to fix. I wanted to see you make it there (to your dreams) safe and sound.
There are some things I will simply have to live with. I will have to live with not saying some things and not doing some things; some really important things. And, that, I hate. Death can be a stealer at times. Often, He steals the most precious things of all.
I lost the chance for future redemptions, when I lost you.
3 – The Secondary Loss of Mental Stability
Before you left, life was stable. I took so much for granted. I assumed that tomorrow would be similar to the day before. I assumed you’d be here. I was wrong.
The day you left, stability decided to leave too. Up and off, he went. Everything seemed to change. My mind was among those many changes. I couldn’t think from one moment to the next. Complete brain fog. My mind was empty. And, when I did remember a glimmer of the outside world, all I saw was death. Over and over, I saw death. The little sleep I managed to get was mangled with thoughts of despair. During my waking hours, I felt mentally challenged, lost… distant. I stuttered when people asked me my name. I couldn’t remember how to get places. I would halt in the middle of tasks at work, for several minutes, before remembering where I was. I was embarrassed and began feeling as those I was simply mentally unstable.
I miss the days of having a sharp mind, untouched by immense grief. Though my focus has improved, it’s not what it used to be, even three years out. The mental instability caused by losing you will always be there. Triggers may pop up out of no where. Someone may walk by, gracing a similar swagger. All of these nuances throw me off kilter for a bit, as I grasp for something solid to hold on to.
I lost the assumption of mental stability, when I lost you.
4 – The Secondary Loss of Physical Health
Three years ago, I was thirty pounds lighter, had never seen a chiropractor, and had a primary care physician. I seldom had a headache, seldom had a body ache, and routinely visited the gym. I didn’t have any concerns about my health other than occasional PMS (it’s a girl thing).
But, after the first year, I could barely move. My body was stiff, and moved with jagged motion. It hurt to drive, type, or to simply sit at my desk. I soon found myself at a chiropractor’s office. Embarrassingly, I cried during one of my visits, disclosing the truth of why I was there. “My son died, and now I can’t move!” Oh, the joys of being a bereaved mother.
The increasing number of headaches I was having was an annoyance, but I refused to be seen. I’d given up my primary care physician and have still yet to find one. My comfort level with doctors has decreased dramatically. My trust in anyone/anything isn’t quite as high as it once was, in particularly the medical field. I know bad things happen now. Though, I wondered if I should be seeing someone to help regulate my hormones. I was all over the place, and could barely keep my composure during certain times. The eternal stress on my body was just too much. I tried the gym. But, each time, I attempted to spend more than ten minutes in the presence of perfectly healthy twenty-year-olds, lifting their weights without a care in the world, I’d burst into tears. When I sat in a corner, at the gym, and took this picture, I knew I needed to find another solution. I took this picture to remind myself that it gets better. It must.
The truth is, we can’t hide grief from our bodies. It must be carried someplace, and often that’s within the deep pockets of our heart and soul, migrating out through the crevices of our body. Our bodies carry our hidden pain, and until it is thoroughly healed, there will be physical implications.
I lost instinctive control over my physical health, when I lost you. It now requires much more work.
5 – The Secondary Loss of Friendships
Friendships changed when I lost you, Josh. I don’t know what happened. Things just changed; felt different. I know you won’t believe this, but I haven’t spoken to Auntie Monica in forever. I can’t. Everything’s so wrong. She named you. Who are we without you? It’s very painful. I’m not ready.
While some friendships are on hold, I’ve met a lot of new people too. Unfortunately, we’re tied together by the loss of our children. But, I know they understand. I hold them dear to my heart, and don’t know if I would have survived losing you with them in my life. They are the people I need right now. These are the type of friendships I can muster strength for.
What about you? Have you met any new friends in heaven? I can’t imagine what it must be like. I guess you’re experiencing many new things too.
My friendships changed, when I lost you.
6 – The Secondary Loss of Financial Security
Why does money have to be so important? One of the most important things became valueless to me, after I lost you. If only I’d remembered that everyone else thought it was still a very necessary thing. Josh, I could barely function after you left. Waking up in the morning was pure misery. I received this daily reminder that you were gone. It was like clockwork, an internal dialogue, that instantly reminded me upon opening my eyes that this was real… you were gone. Money was the furthest thing from my mind. It just sat there. I did nothing with it. The bills pilled up in the mailbox. I ignored calls. Didn’t care. Didn’t have the mental energy to care. Did it really matter where I lived? A cardboard box seemed like an equivalent structure in which to live. It best related to what I was feeling inside.
Work was a joke.
I’m honestly surprised I still have a job. Many days, I called in or arrived extremely late with residue of dried tears stuck to my face. Half the time, I was in a daze. I couldn’t focus long enough for someone to ask a question. I had absolutely no clue what anyone had asked most days. I was just there, in limbo… sitting there numbly as, what appeared to be, a whirling tsunami washed over me.
Late fees and small paychecks added up. With everything that was going on, couldn’t someone press pause? I needed everything to stop for a second. I couldn’t keep up. Just let me sit for a while. But, somehow, we managed. We’re back on our feet. I check the mail occasionally (as often as before), pay the bills, and show up to work. I’m still not myself mentally, but I’m much better than before, and am so very thankful for a wonderful work family. They give me grace.
Our finances went through a storm of their own, when I lost you.
7 – The Secondary Loss of Personal Dreams
My dreams were intact when you were by my side. Many of them involved you and your siblings. My dreams seemed worthwhile because of you. They seemed important; the cherry on top of a perfectly layered sundae. But, my dreams faded after your death. I couldn’t see them anymore. I couldn’t remember why they mattered; what I ever saw in them. So, I stopped thinking about them. The sad thing is, I didn’t even miss them. My mind was filled with thoughts of you. What I could have done to save you; to keep you here. What I wish I hadn’t done. All the what if’s, should haves, and would haves were enough to keep me occupied for years. Dreams? I had no time for petty dreams? I was trying to save my baby.
With much intention, I’m learning to dream again. I’m learning that my grief can create a new type of dream; a dream that allows your memory to live on. It’s the only way I know to save you; to keep some piece of you here with me, for all to remember. I’m dreaming again, Josh. – I love you.
All my old dreams drifted away, when I lost you.
8 – The Secondary Loss of Truth as I Knew It
What I thought was true seemed blurry after finding you that morning. This couldn’t be true; couldn’t be happening. How?! Did the Lord not hear my prayers? Sometimes, I questioned His very existence. But, each time I did, He reminded me of His presence. What I once knew to be true, I now grasped to for mere survival.
I once read the words of the Bible as a lovely guide. Now, I used it as a weapon against self-doubt and defeat. I repeated the verses over and over, and cried out to the Lord to remind me who I was. “Remind me, Lord.” I was in the battle of my life and it depended on Truth.
My connection with Truth changed, the day I lost you.
9 – The Secondary Loss of Who I thought I Was
To say I lost myself, right along with you, would be an understatement. I questioned whether I ever had a grasp of who I really was. I couldn’t remember how I laughed, how I smiled, my carefree walk… I lost me… or maybe I never really knew me. Conversations were silent. I could think of nothing to say. I had no interest in the hobbies I thought I formerly loved. I couldn’t even remember what I thought I liked about them. Who was I? I didn’t know. I missed me.
My connection with self changed, when I lost you. I’m still finding her, and believe she’s emerging to be someone quite different. I’ll attribute that gift to you.
10 – The Secondary Loss of TIME…
Time became allusive when you died. It was like playing hide-and-seek with the optical illusion of the week. I could never really discover where she was, losing her for days at a time. The moments I felt I had her within my grasp, I’d realize I’d been duped; only to find she’d left that spot months, sometimes years before. Time was a mystery.
Even as I type this today, three years after your death, I am utterly confused by time. How has it been three years? When will I see you again. How can time possibly expect me to live twenty, forty, fifty more years without you? Will your embrace feel the same? Will we feel distant, or will time feel as it does today; like it was only yesterday?
Time stood still the day you left.
A Sack of Secondary Losses After Child Loss
“The next time someone dear to you loses someone special, please remember that they may have also just lost their best friend, their dreams, friendships, and connection to self.”
I always thought loss felt like emptiness. Every other time I’d lost something in life, my bag felt too light. My hands felt empty, like they were missing something. But, the loss of death is heavy. It feels like the burden of a million things has been thrust in your tiny world; like you’re carrying a sack of loss filled with a million tiny little indiscriminate pieces all meticulously carved from smooth, weighted lead.
None of them feel “secondary.” They all feel just as heavy as the next. Which is more important? Which is secondary? My dwindling paycheck or my wandering mind? My loss of dreams, self, or friends? Secondary loss causes just as much harm as any primary event. The damage is real. The weight is crushing. The next time someone dear to you loses someone special, please remember that they may have also just lost their best friend, their dreams, friendships, and connection to self. They may not be able to tarry far, while carrying this heavy sack. Be patient with them. Give them time. Sit quietly next to them and allow them to process what they are experiencing.
I gained a sack of lead, when I lost you.
Need Help?
Have you experienced loss? Do you feel overwhelmed by the bag of secondary losses thrown your way? I understand. I wish I could take that bag from you, but it is a bag that only you can carry. I can, however, walk beside you. I can let you know that you’re not alone.
You’re not.
There are so many of us who have experienced deep losses, and we’re still here. Some of us are limping along, but we’re here. We keep showing up, and we believe it gets better. If you’d like to walk this journey with me, you are more than welcome. You can sign up to receive occasional encouragement from me by clicking here. When you do, you’ll also gain access to my growing resource library. Each time I add a resource to this library, I smile. I feel like I’m doing something with this pain I carry. It brings me joy. I hope to hear from you soon.
xoxo,
Rachel
© Rachel Blado www.OnTheWayToWhereYoureGoing.com All Rights Reserved.
P.S.
Spread the Word
I believe the contents of this post are so very important. Secondary losses after child loss are a very big deal. So often, people don’t understand nor recognize all that a person has lost when they lose a dear loved one. Please take a moment and share this simple post. Share it with someone who has lost someone, and let them know that you don’t understand, but you’re trying, and you’re there for them.
EMPLOYERS and supervisors, please be patient. I cannot stress this enough. Grief is HARD. Coping with losing a child is very difficult work. Getting up is challenging. Caring feels like a mountain. Brain capacity is down, but your person NEEDS you. They need you to understand. They need you to care enough to carry some of their burden and provide grace… and then some more. Please, in your frustration, don’t give up on your person. I’m so grateful for my work family. They have sincerely loved me through this process and continue to do so. Everyone, needs a soft place to land. Will you be that soft place, by putting people over your bottom line?
Thank you, in advance, for sharing this little post and spreading the word.
The more we know and understand about secondary losses, the better we are at walking beside individuals who are carrying an unimaginable burden.
Grace to you, Friend.
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