"relationships may change"

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I read early on that relationships often change after losing a parent—or any loved one. I quickly noticed a sense of clarity about certain situations and found myself lacking the energy for specific people or circumstances. I was also deeply disappointed by some individuals I had expected to support me, as some were barely present or not there at all. On the other hand, I received incredible support from people I hadn’t anticipated, and I was pleasantly surprised by kind gestures from others I hadn’t expected much from. Losing a loved one can truly be an eye-opening experience when it comes to understanding relationships.

It’s also important to remember that some people simply don’t know what to say and, as a result, may remain silent or offer what feels like minimal support—often without intending to hurt you. Personally, I’d prefer someone to be honest and tell me that they don’t know what to say, rather than barely being there or not showing up at all. But, of course, I can’t control how others handle my loss. It can feel awkward to ask someone to acknowledge that limitation unless they bring it up themselves (though, if you feel comfortable doing so, I think that’s wonderful). As disappointing as these limitations can be, sometimes you have to accept that’s where they are, and that you can’t rely on them for support during your grief. You don’t necessarily have to end your relationship with them over this, but it’s important to recognize that they may not be able to provide the support you need in that capacity. With that in mind, I highly recommend seeking out online or in-person grief support groups, where your grief is seen, your pain is truly understood, and where you can receive meaningful advice.

On the other hand, as mentioned, people can also surprise you. You may find that those you expected to support you are doing exactly that—or even more. Personally, I felt a stronger connection to some people who had also lost their mothers. It also made me reflect, wondering, "Was I ever that person who wasn’t there enough or didn’t admit that I didn’t know what to say or do?" I’m fairly certain I was, because while I could empathize with others and their situations, I didn’t truly understand what it felt like until I lost someone I deeply loved.

Relationships can change in many ways after the passing of a loved one. Below are some of my reflections on the different dynamics I experienced:

the good:

Let’s start with the positive side.

Hopefully, the people you expected to support you truly do. Some may even go above and beyond. For me, I had a handful of people who fit into this category, and a few of them were heartwarming, pleasant surprises.

These people not only opened their doors for me to lean on them—physically and emotionally—but they also respected my boundaries as I navigated my grief. For months, I only felt comfortable seeing certain family members, and my friends never gave me any flak for this. They understood that I needed time to curl up in my "cave," mourning the emptiness beside me. They recognized that I was struggling with flashbacks and acute grief.

During this time, I focused on therapy, reading books on grief, and working on projects my mom had wanted to complete but couldn’t, like organizing the house, sewing a felt cat for my niece, and finishing a quilt for my mom’s nephew.

To those who were genuinely there for you during your grief, I recommend holding them close to your heart, as I do with mine. I found that the loss of my mom made certain connections with others even stronger, and I hope you’ve experienced the same.

the not so good:

As I mentioned earlier, sometimes relationships end after the loss of a loved one. Someone might intentionally say the wrong thing, cause unnecessary chaos, or show more interest in money than in your well-being. On a personal level, you may also realize that the person was only in your life because of the mutual connection to your loved one. If you feel that removing them from your life is the best choice, then I say go for it—but I recommend giving yourself a day or two to reflect before making that decision. When we’re hurt, we can sometimes act impulsively, only to regret it later. In my experience, it’s helpful to step back, take some time, and then decide, especially when it comes to something as significant as removing someone from your life. Keep in mind, too, that some people may not accept an apology later on.

There were a select few who truly fit into this category for me, and I’m not talking about people I realized I couldn’t rely on for support but still wanted to remain friends or family with. For me, the few who fell into this category were those who had treated my mom very poorly, both during her life and after her passing. Some even tried to make me regret putting my life on hold for three years to be there for her. After her loss, I realized I no longer had to keep these people in my life—especially those who had repeatedly used and abused my mom’s kindness, love, time, and even money. Knowing the pain and stress these individuals caused my mom, it became clear that removing them from my life was the best choice. And to be honest, it was also incredibly freeing.

You may find that this path is right for you as well, and if so, I hope it brings you the same sense of relief. As we grieve, we don’t need to carry additional trauma, heartache, or unnecessary drama that diverts our attention from our healing journey.

the indifferent:

This is a bit of a tricky category—the people you thought would change after the loss of your loved one but didn’t. The key difference between this category and the previous one is that it doesn’t have the same deeply negative impact on you. It’s more of a continuation of behavior, and honestly, it’s not really a surprise.

For me, the individuals who fell into this category were given opportunities—opportunities that initially came with hesitation or resounding "no's"—that others did not have, despite their extensive history of treating my mom poorly in various ways. We hoped that by giving them these chances, we would either start a new chapter or grow closer. However, shortly after, they returned to their old ways. While the disrespect initially caused a lot of anger, I now find myself mostly indifferent. I simply don’t have the energy to carry resentment anymore, but the lack of regard will always be something I remember.

It is what it is, and it always will be. However, depending on your situation, you can still choose to remove these individuals from your life if that’s what you feel is necessary for your peace.

the new:

This is one of the most incredible categories of people—the ones you meet at the door of a club that nobody wants to be a part of. They’re the ones who have gone through or are going through what you’ve just experienced. While not everyone will have the same perspective, the shared experience of losing someone close to us creates an unspoken bond that brings us together.

You can find these people in your personal life, in in-person grief groups, online grief communities, and more. I cannot recommend these types of groups enough. And this comes from someone who has done in-person group therapy before and ultimately prefers individualized therapy.

the overall:

Overall, it’s likely that your relationships with others will change after a loss. Some people may disappoint you, some may surprise you, and others may do exactly what you hoped they would. Ultimately, how you choose to handle these shifts is entirely up to you.

If you’re uncertain about how to navigate relationships after a loss, I highly recommend seeking therapy—whether individual or group. Having a third party (or third parties) offer insight can be incredibly helpful in sorting through your feelings. Personally, individualized therapy played a crucial role in helping me navigate my changing relationships.

-j🌻

"rephrasing 'lost the battle' to cancer"

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Another phrase I often see in online grief forums that can be irritating is "lost the battle." Many people who have lost loved ones to cancer find this phrase upsetting because it implies that their loved one wasn’t strong enough to beat it or that they gave up fighting—neither of which is typically true.

Having lost my mom to cancer, I completely understand why people dislike the phrase "lost the battle." I’m not a fan of it either because, in my experience, it doesn’t accurately reflect my mom’s journey. My mom had always said she never wanted to undergo IV chemo, but when she believed it was her last option to extend her life, she was willing to give it a try. Unfortunately, that option wasn’t available at the time. We were told that we had to shift from combat-mode to comfort-mode. There was nothing more that could be done. It broke my heart to watch her, someone who had never wanted to go down that path, be told that it was time to start thinking seriously—and quickly—about hospice, as the cancer was shutting down her vital organs.

So, when people say that my mom "lost her battle" to cancer, I choose to rephrase it in my response, with respect, as follows:

"Her body could not keep up with her strong, determined spirit."

Because it’s the truth, and I believe that most, if not all, others who have lost loved ones to cancer would feel the same way.

For those whose loved ones chose not to pursue the next treatment or any treatment at all, I don’t believe they "lost the battle" or "gave up" either. Deciding how to move forward after a terminal diagnosis is an incredibly difficult decision. While others might perceive it as giving up, I personally see it as their bodies simply not being able to keep up with their strong, determined spirits. In my view, it takes a great deal of courage to say "no" to life-prolonging medications, especially since the side effects can be extremely harsh and may end up making things worse.

For me, I’ll always say that I lost my mom in February of 2023 to cancer, but I’ll never say she lost her battle. She was, and still is, the strongest person I’ve ever known.

As with all posts on this blog, if you believe differently and find that works best for you, that’s perfectly okay! If you’re comfortable using the phrase "lost their battle to cancer" to describe your loss, or if others use it to describe your loss, that’s absolutely fine. Everyone has their own preferences, and my suggestion is just that—a suggestion.

-j🌻

"tenses"

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After the loss of a loved one, it can take time to shift from speaking in the present tense to the past. Sometimes, the present tense slips out, triggering a fresh wave of grief. It can even be embarrassing if someone gives you a concerned look, but please don’t feel embarrassed. In my opinion, there’s no need to change everything to past tense. There’s no rule that says once someone passes away, you have to alter everything about them to reflect that loss.

At first, I told myself I would keep most things about my mom in the present tense, because she will always be my mom, and to me, that didn’t end when she passed away. But then, when responding to people, I found myself backspacing to delete “is” and changing it to “was.” In my head, I knew I was speaking in the present tense, but I felt too embarrassed to write it that way. I didn’t want people to think I hadn’t accepted my mom’s passing, which couldn’t be further from the truth. She passed away right in front of me, and there’s no denying the fact that she is no longer physically here.

It wasn’t until I went to a follow-up acute grief appointment that I noticed my doctor—who was a wonderful person and an angel to my mom and our family during her battle and well before—spoke about my mom in the present tense. I felt a sense of relief, understanding, and acceptance in that moment. That’s when it clicked for me: I don’t have to speak about my mom in the past tense if I don’t want to. I didn’t bring up the tense change with my doctor, but I found myself responding to her using present tense as well. I’ll have to thank her for that.

If you prefer to use past tense, that’s perfectly okay, too! It’s all about what brings you the most comfort. I still sometimes find myself backspacing or actively changing my thoughts to past tense, depending on who I’m talking to or the context of what I’m writing or saying. Some people understand these preferences, while others don’t—and that’s not worth stressing over. Ultimately, it’s about what works best for you. For me, keeping my mom’s memory in the present tense feels right. It helps me feel like she’s still "alive" in a way, and that brings me comfort.

-j🌻