Things I Have Learned From Losing Loved Ones

Loss is inevitable, you can’t stop it, and you can’t change it.

By the time I was 18, I had lost more friends and family than most do in a lifetime. I thought that it was normal to lose family members tragically or lose your childhood friends and find out via social media. Having other people explode your phone so you don’t see the rest in peace messages on your feed. I thought it was reasonable to say goodbye to the people you love at a funeral. At the ripe age of 22, if there’s anything I can say I am good at, it’s how to lose a loved one and how to cope with a funeral. That feeling in the pit of your stomach when you hear the news. The feeling when you hear someone say that a loved one has passed away. That’s the feeling I have learned to deal with and deal with well. I hate to say that those are the things I am good at but, stick with me. I promise there is something valuable coming from this.

The first time I lost a loved one I was in the 6th grade, my mom picked me up from school, and we had a long chat, my grandmother had passed away. I remember not understanding what it meant, I was worried about how I would deal with this, my grandmother is gone, but I knew I had lots of support and everything would be OK.

The second time I lost a loved one, I lost my aunt, she had cancer for as long as I could remember. She was my safe place, my safety net when I didn’t get along with my parents. She would take care of me and hold me, give me the best hugs, and tell me how awesome I was. I was in the 7th grade when she passed away. It felt like this was a secret I wasn’t supposed to know. I found out from a family friend in the kitchen while at my cousin’s wedding, he is the one that told me my aunt had passed away that morning. No one said to me except this random family friend in a kitchen of my uncle’s house (her brother). I remember feeling like this was hidden from me, and I didn’t get to say goodbye.

This is just the beginning of the long list of people I have lost; I could take the time and explain every story in detail about when and where I was when I found out a loved one passed away. I could tell you what time it was, what day of the week it was, where I was standing or sitting, who was the first person that told me and who was the first person I told. What sound my mother’s voice makes when she has to break the news, and the look on her face, and the way she says: “Hey Adan, I have to tell you something.” I can hear and replay every moment as if it was yesterday, and as if I was watching myself experience every single second of the loss.

I never thought that the loss of a loved one would come with a valuable lesson until now. Each loss came with something new to learn. I was once told if you want to become good at something, spend a lot of time practicing and doing the same thing over and over and over again. Well, when you’ve lost ten or more (I have lost count) people that you would consider significant humans in your life, you begin to become good at the process of grief.

Here are some things I have learned through the loss of a love one:

1. Take a second, look around you, bring yourself to the present, and take a big deep breath.

I lost my uncle when I was 14 years old; he passed away in front of me. I remember lying in bed, knowing my uncle was on the way to a hospital. I was lying in my bed, so sick to my stomach, not knowing if he was OK or not. He was my neighbor and my best friend, my favorite person to wave hello to in the morning. My home phone rang. I answered it was my father. He never called. (My parents had been divorced for ten years.) He told me he wanted to speak to my mom. I gave the phone to her and sat at the door of my bedroom, trying to hear what they were saying. When I heard my mom open my bedroom door, I jumped back and said: he’s dead, isn’t he? I was 14. I had no idea how I had such bad luck. I remember pushing her out of the bedroom and slamming my bedroom door.

I fell into my bed and cried so hard, sick to my stomach. I lost my favorite neighbor and my favorite funny guy. Instead of taking a moment, I closed my eyes and cried myself to sleep. It took months, maybe even years, before I took a moment to bring myself back before I could take a deep breath and remember all the great things about my uncle. It took a long time to be able to think of our memories without being sick to my stomach and start to cry. All I could do was to struggle from another significant loss. I suffered silently alone and never allowed for a genuine grieving process early enough.

You need to ground yourself; you are probably in shock. Take a moment and appreciate this moment, this ending of life. You are celebrating on your own the beauty of their life, thinking of the best possible moments you shared with them. That acknowledgment of the loss, that true deep breath, and total relaxation while you think about the loss of this significant person in your life. Doing this will help healthily start the grieving process. There are many times I wish I could have stopped just for a second and appreciated that moment.

2. People who say: “I lost my *insert, a significant person* as well I know exactly how you feel.” Most of the time have no idea what you’re going through.

I remember once, explaining the misfortune of the many deaths to a friend. She had asked how I had survived, with a smile on my face always, even after losing so many people. I explained the story from the start, to middle, until I was interrupted. She shared that she had also lost a friend and understood what I had gone through and that she just “moved on.” I remember looking at her puzzled as if she had reached down my throat and grabbed my stomach. I thought she has no idea what it was like to lose a friend like him. We had been friends before he could barely speak. We were more like siblings than friends. But I smiled and just said “ya, exactly,” I allowed that to bother me for a while. The fact that someone so quickly just said I know what you went through. I know now that it was out of love, and she wanted to share this moment with me, but that loss was mine, and I never wanted it to be compared to any other loss.

This is something I often hear when people tell friends or other family members that they lost a significant person in their life. I promise they are trying to help and share how they did it or their experience with death. Just remember that this is your loss, and you are allowed to grieve however you want. No one can interrupt that for you. The grief is your moment. They probably have no idea what you’re going through because everyone grieves differently. It is your grief, and just allow this to roll off your shoulder. They want to help, I promise.

3. When you’re standing at a casket during the viewing or wake, don’t ever let someone say to you: “let’s go.” It’s your moment to grieve and take as long as you need it during this time.

I remember when I lost my childhood best friend. I was hanging on to his moms’ hand while I slipped a letter into his jacket pocket. I keeled on the pews and held his hand. I finally let go and let tears roll down my face for the first time that day. There were maybe 15 of us in the funeral home. My mom grabbed me and told me: “OK, let’s go.” But my moment wasn’t done. I wasn’t done saying goodbye. This was the last time I would get to see his face, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. My childhood best friend’s mom looked at my mother and said: “Leave her, she needs to have her moment. I will never forget her saying that. It changed everything for me, and I allowed myself to have a proper goodbye, no regrets because my mom didn’t want me to cry, she didn’t want to watch me cry so hard, but I knew I needed that.

If you’re attending a wake with a friend or family member, and they say to you, “OK, that’s enough.” Or “let’s go.” You ignore this, take your moment. You are allowed to take as much time as you need to say goodbye. As much as the wake is for the family, it’s for you too. It’s for you to say goodbye and to say thank you for the memories. The family isn’t the only person that lost a loved one. You did too. And you’re allowed to cry; you’re allowed to feel pain. Don’t let anyone around you feel guilty for the amount of time, or tears you’re shedding.

4. The cliché: “it gets easier over time” is true.

When I was young, and I had lost my aunt and uncle, I honestly believed I would never be able to get over it. I thought it was always going to be as painful as the day I lost them. I used to wonder how time would be able to pass without them. How would I be able to survive these significant losses? It was almost unbearable to me. I never thought I would go back to my regular carefree self. The truth is, I never went back to the person I was before, I grew into a stronger person because of it.

If you have recently lost someone, hearing “It gets better over time” may make you mad. That’s OK. At this very moment, this is probably not something you want to hear. Take this with a grain of salt. Put the saying in your toolbox, and eventually, you will pull out this saying and repeat it to yourself every day. Remember, this too shall pass, and this is because it will. It will get better, not perfect, but better.

5. Death is inevitable.

I will never forget driving in the car with my mom, my aunt was suffering from cancer, and it was apparent her journey on planet earth was coming to a close. I looked at my mom as she told me that my aunt was going to die soon. I remember being so mad. Why would she tell me this, my aunt was the strongest woman I know? The protector of all things going wrong in my life. She had this ease to just take care of me. She can’t die. She is invincible. I was young, but I remember these words breaking the lips of my mother’s mouth. I remember sobbing uncontrollably. If there is one thing, I could tell my 10-year-old self at that moment, it would be that death is inevitable, you can’t stop it, you can’t slow it down, and you need to be at peace with saying goodbye.

You cannot prepare yourself for death, and you just have to know, it’s inevitable. Even if that’s something, you don’t want to believe. You can’t prepare for the feelings, even if you have gone through it one hundred times. You cannot prepare for the pain, the sense of loss, just know that it’s normal and go back to number 4, it will get easier over time.

I’d hate to say that the one thing I am good at is losing someone, but it may be the truth. I don’t love the feeling of losing someone, but let me tell you, I am at peace with the thoughts and feelings that come alongside death. I can’t promise you any of this will work. I can’t guarantee you that you will get to take your moment, or that it will get easier over time, but I hope what I will bring you is closure, or maybe you will find comfort in knowing you aren’t alone, that the feelings you have are yours. You grieve how you want as long as it’s healthily.

Losing someone isn’t the end; it’s only the beginning; let this be your start.