healing happens when we share our stories
Sometimes tragedy shakes the structure of life so completely that nothing looks the same when the dust settles. When my life-altering, pivot-point tragedy occurred, I never could have imagined all of the ways that I would change as a result of it. Though the very deepest parts of my identity did not change; my value, my worth, and the meaning of my existence... I am certainly not the same person I once was.
When someone close to you dies, a hole is left where a relationship used to be. Because of his or her death, there are things that will not get done unless they are reassigned to someone else. Your relationship with your loved one is gone, but so also might be the friends you used to spend time with because things have changed - in you, in them, in general - since your life-altering personal tragedy. Life looks different now because when your loved one left, so did the roles and relationships you once knew.
The first secondary losses following any primary loss, are the ones relating to lifestyle and everyday realities. These losses concern routines, location, occupation, social interactions, daily items... and the list goes on.
When a loved one dies, you experience the primary loss of that person and all he or she meant to you. Secondary losses are the rest of the weight of a life without that person in your life. They are the rest of the equation - the things that you no longer have because the person with whom they were associated is gone. Secondary losses are not secondary because they are less significant, but rather because they are a result of the primary loss.
When a loved one dies, you experience the primary loss of that person and all he or she meant to you. Secondary losses are the rest of the weight of a life without that person in your life. They are the rest of the equation - the things that you no longer have because the person with whom they were associated is gone. Secondary losses are not secondary because they are less significant, but rather because they are a result of the primary loss.
I’ve heard it said that every person is either going into a storm, in the middle of one, or on their way out of one. Grief is one of those storms. It crashes into our lives after the loss of beloved people or things, and it doesn’t behave in any clearly understandable way. Just as every person is different, everyone experiences grief uniquely. Because of that, there isn’t a one-size-fits-all rule book. Here are some things I’ve been learning through my own tumultuous journey with loss and grief.
The last two months were excellent examples to me that too much of a good thing can be harmful. February could be described as excess, while March was clearly stress. Here’s to proceeding into April with grace and balance.
In a month that seemed especially dark and icy, it's was wonderful to be able to hold a brand new baby. In both my heart and my arms I felt light, joy, hope and peace from God.
In February 2016, the lives of Lindsey Atkins and Lizzie Lindberg went through epic changes that culminated to a profound juxtaposition on Saturday, February 20th. These circumstances compelled us to write our stories together.
At that time and even right now I wonder, was it worth it? Was it truly better to have passionately loved Eric and to have felt the tearing anguish of his absence than to never have loved him at all? Most of the time my answer to those questions is a resounding "YES." Other times, when breathing becomes like rocket science and surviving is my only goal… I wonder if love is worth the pain of loss.
Rayford Story 