What Is Secondary Grief? Understanding Hidden Layers of Loss and How to Cope

The hardest part of grief is not always the funeral. Sometimes it’s the moment you realize the world kept moving and your role vanished with the person you love. That’s where secondary grief lives, the losses attached to the original loss: the routines that disappear, the future you assumed you’d have, the version of you that no longer makes sense. 

I’m Dr. Donna, a somatic grief coach and psychic life coach, and I’m naming what so many people feel but rarely hear out loud. We talk about identity collapse after death and why it can feel like a second shock to the system. I share my own experience of losing my son and the terrifying thought that followed: I no longer felt like a mom. We unpack why that feeling is not selfish, how attachment shapes bereavement, and how the nervous system reacts when its anchors and responsibilities suddenly change. 

We also go into the social side of secondary grief: friends who disappear after the funeral, awkward conversations, and the loneliness of carrying invisible weight in rooms where people expect you to be “fine.” I offer gentle prompts to help you name what you miss, along with practical support options like somatic work, therapy, energy techniques, and grief support groups so you don’t try to carry layered loss alone. 

If this resonates, listen, share it with someone who needs language for their pain, and leave a review so more grieving hearts can find this show. What part of secondary grief has been the most surprising for you?

Transcript

Welcome And The Hidden Grief

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Hello, it's Dr. Donna and welcome to another episode of my podcast, Soul Talk and Psychic Advice. Today we're going to talk about something that no one really prepares you for. And that is secondary grief. So for those of you who are grieving the loss of a loved one, let's talk about secondary grief. Most people understand primary grief, right? That's the grief of the person you lost. Now there are all forms of grief, right? There are many forms from a divorce to betrayal, losing a job, um, emptiness. There's all sorts of grief out there, but today we're talking about losing a loved one. And so it's when you get that phone call, right? The hospital room, the diagnosis, the funeral. That's all primary grief. That you understand, that you get because you've experienced it. You lived it if you're grieving on some level, especially that phone call part. And I remember that phone call saying that my son died, that just really shocked my system because I just got through speaking to him a few hours prior. But let's talk about the secondary grief. Secondary grief is everything that dies after the person dies. Think about it, because the person is lost, but there's so much that comes with that. So it's your identity. Were you a wife and you're no longer a wife? Or you're a husband, you're no longer a husband. Were you a parent and that was your only child like me, or you have other children, but you have one less child. Um, you lost a sibling, you lost a best friend. There is some change that happened to you that is devastating along with losing the person, and this is the secondary creep. The identity changes of who you are. It's the routines that you had with that person, it's the future that you thought you were walking toward with that person, you know, and it's the version of you that no longer exists because that person is gone, and that can become a big shock to the system. It's something that people aren't often prepared for. You know, it's one thing to lose a person, but what comes after allows the grief to get bigger and bigger before things get lighter. So and for me, the one of the deepest layers of secondary grief was this. I'd be honest, I no longer felt like a mom. No one warned me that that grief would take that from me too. And it's true, I didn't feel like a parent. Am I still a parent? Who am I? Right? You know, I used to always be proud to say my son, even though I was a teen mom. And when he died, and people asked, Do you have kids? I'm like, Do I tell them that I had a kid and they passed or not? Because you know, a lot of people can't handle that. And the old me would make other people comfortable. My son's been gone 18 years, but now it's like, yes, I had a son and he passed away. You know, I've gotten to that place a few years back. So today we're going to gently unpack this secondary grief. Let's talk about it in detail. What is secondary grief? Secondary grief refers to the losses attached to the original loss. When someone dies, you don't just lose the person, you lose so much more. You lose the role that they played in your life. You lose the role that you played in their life, they played in yours, the way other people related to you, and people will act different towards you, right? If you are once in a couple position and you're no longer is because your spouse passed away, some people will disappear. Some people didn't know what to say to me because I was no longer a parent. They get uncomfortable, right? So people will relate to you differently. The structure of your days, your days are different. You know, my son was grown, he's living his life in Reno, but I would still communicate with him at just about every day. He was a mama's boy, and you know, my son was number one. You your assumed future is gone. Your sense of purpose has changed, and it may feel like it's gone. Sometimes your financial stability is affected, right? A parent dies, a spouse dies, it affects your finances for a lot of people. And so make sure you have that preparation. I know people don't want to talk about death. I used to do life insurance exams, and people were so uncomfortable with getting life insurance because I heard people say, Well, that means I'm gonna die. And I'm like, You're gonna die anyway, and you might as well have the insurance. And I would look at them and I say, Do you love your family? Do you want them to have to do car washes? Because this was prior to the internet and go fund me. And I would say to them, Do you want them to suffer when you're gone? Oh no, I wouldn't want that. I said, then you get this life insurance, you do the exam. You already signed up for it, do the exam, follow through, protect your family. But a lot of people just can't. They feel so uncomfortable with that. And they overthink it because we are uncomfortable with talking about death. Okay, so you know, your purpose is gone, sometimes your financial stability, and often your social circle goes away. It changes for a lot of people. If you were always going out as couples, you're not gonna be doing that. They'll check in on you a little bit, right? They'd be there at the funeral, but people disappear after the funeral. Some friends get uncomfortable, some friends were very uncomfortable with me losing my son, and I called people out because how could you be uncomfortable? I'm the one who went through it, not you. Um, but people do fade out for many reasons. And you know, life has to go on one way or another. So grief experts sometimes describe this as secondary losses, and that's what it is. But I call it secondary grief because it carries its own emotional weight. It is not smaller, it is not less important, and often it's the layer that lasts the longest. Ooh, it feels so painful. The first wave of grief is about survival. The second wave of grief is about identity, and identity loss is destabilizing to the nervous system in ways we don't talk about enough. We don't, and there's so many layers to it. And a lot of times people don't know where to start because they are stuck at I lost this person until they start going on about life and they realize, ooh, some people don't want to be around me, some people are gone, and I'm no longer a wife or a husband or a parent or you know, especially when you lose a kid, other parents get really uncomfortable. They act like losing a kid is contagious, that if they're around you, they're gonna lose theirs too. You'd be surprised. If you haven't gone through it, there's no way to really prepare for grief, but do expect the unexpected when you do go through a loss. So the second wave is about identity, and identity loss is destabilizing the nervous system in ways we don't talk about enough. I wanted to repeat that. It destabilizes the nervous system. So let's talk about the identity collapse. When my son died, the first grief was primal, it was shock, it was devastation. I was numb. It was the kind of pain that takes your breath and rearranges your cells. But after, you know, the funeral and the gifts and the food and spending time, everybody's there and they're hovering over you. The world resumes spinning. Right? I always talk about how I went to Whole Foods to get groceries, and the guy asked me, How are you? Because I'm sure I looked down and I said, I'm fine. And so the illusion comes back, right? Pretending that you're fine when you're not. How many times have you told people that you're doing okay when you're not? Think about it. It's a social construct. Nobody wants to hear that you're doing bad. They don't have time for that. Um something else hit me. If he is gone, who am I now? I didn't just lose my child. I lost the active daily role of being his mom. 'Cause I was always his mom. I would send him cookware and we'd discuss recipes and y you know, all sorts of things because he was becoming an adult and he was a successful young adult. But yeah, I was still mom. And I was no longer, you know, doing the things that I do. You know, I wasn't buying birthday gifts. He wasn't sending me Mother's Day cards. Um, there was no more how's your son doing? Conversations that led anywhere forward were awkward, right? I remember sitting in silence and realizing I don't feel like a mom anymore. That thought terrified me. Because motherhood wasn't just something I did, it was who I was. I I was a mother since I was thirteen. And he passed away right before my you know, I I was thirty-seven. I don't yeah, I don't think I was thirty-eight yet. And so yeah, I was a mother like two-thirds of my life. That's all I knew. And I hustled because of him. I became me because of him. And so for you people who you lost someone that really made you a better person and made you strive for more, it is definitely a big loss and definitely the secondary losses are huge. So this is how secondary grief can sound like. If I'm not a wife, who am I? If I'm not a caregiver, who am I? If I'm not a partner, who am I? If I'm not needed, who am I? Yeah. If I'm not a brother or sister anymore because my sibling died, who am I? You know, some siblings are best friends. And that best friend's gone. And you know, what about if you lose a good friend? I've lost a few good friends, and you just go, I don't have a best friend, I'm not their best friend. It changes you. And the nervous system does not like identity instability. We're used to knowing who we are. Okay, let's talk about the nervous system and the role in loss. As a somatic grief coach, I'm also a psychic life coach. I see this clearly now. Roles provide regulation. When you are a mother, wife, husband, caregiver, sibling, best friend, etc., your nervous system organizes around that responsibility. You have routines, you have micropurpose throughout the day, you have relational anchors. When that disappears suddenly, the body goes into disorientation. Yep. There is no script, no map, no muscle memory for who you are now. And the disorientation could feel like you're floating, just floundering, emptiness, anxiety without a clear cause. You know, I don't know if you've noticed this, if you've gone through grief, but you can have a lot of anxiety out of nowhere. You can have a panic attack out of nowhere, even if you never had them. You can have one. It's a strange invisibility, a deep ache that isn't just about the person. It's about you. And many grieving people feel shame when they realize I'm not just grieving them, I'm grieving who I was. And it is not selfish to go, oh my goodness, my life has changed. That's not selfish to say that because your life did change. Your identity did change. And so, yes, it's about losing the person, but it's how you feel the grief of the person because of how they impacted your life and what relationship you had with them. And that is human, that is attachment, healthy attachment. That is nervous system wiring. That's what it is. The I no longer felt like a mom. This part is tender. I I want to share I'm sharing parts of my story because I used to not share me. And I used to just ignore me. And it wasn't until I shared more me people really felt like they were I was more relatable. And I didn't want to avoid me. It's just I wanted to make everything about my clients and the people I spoke about, y you know, or spoke to, and I didn't want anything to be about me. I'm the youngest of six kids, so I received a lot of attention, so I need no attention, I need no nothing because of that. I was smothered. Even though my family is traumatic and got issues, I was still smothered. Even as a fifty-five year old, I'm still the baby of the family. So I never needed to disgust me, but I realized it's important to do so. So because when my son died, I didn't stop loving him, but the world stopped reflecting back to me that I was a mother. There were no like events related to him, right? No birthday parties, no daily check-in, you know, none of that was there. Motherhood became invisible, and invisibility is painful. I remember thinking, do I still get to call myself a mom? That question wrecked me. Because society often defies motherhood by active caregiving. But what about grieving mothers? What about grieving fathers, eh? What about mothers whose children are in heaven? What about fathers whose children are in heaven? Are we suddenly demoted? Are we erased? Secondary grief whispered, You're not a mom anymore. And that whisper felt like a second death. It took years for me to understand this. Motherhood did not leave my body. It changed form. My nervous system still holds the imprint of caring him. I still got the stretch marks, loving him, protecting him, praying for him. I am still a mother, so you are still a wife until you say you're gonna marry somebody else, and you'll be that person's wife if you choose. You're still a husband, you're still a brother, still a sister, you're still it's just different now. But secondary grief tries to convince us that if the external role disappears, the internal identity must disappear too. But that's not true. But it takes time to rebuild that knowing. The social secondary grief, let's talk about that. There's another layer we don't talk about. When you experience profound loss, people don't know how to relate to you. They don't, they're so uncomfortable. They act like like it's contagious. Somebody's gonna die right away because they're talking to you that they know. But you know we're all gonna lose someone we love, right? And so some pull away, some get uncomfortable, some say nothing. You not only lose the person, you sometimes lose friendships, you lose the ease of casual conversations. Yes, you do. You lose a version of you that can talk about the future without flinching. That isolation compounds secondary grief. You can feel like the only one in the room who has buried a child, who has lost a husband, who has lost a sibling, who has lost a best friend, who has lost a grandparent, etc. Right? The only one carrying invisible weight. The only one who can't pretend everything is fine, and that loneliness is real. Let's talk about rebuilding identity after secondary grief. Because you have to. You know, I'm still mother to my son, although he's on the other side of the veil, but I mother my clients, I mother my work, I mother the women who come to me broken and scared. The love didn't die, the expression changed. And for you guys who had given so much to people you love, you get to who you lost, you get to give in other ways and to other people. That shift did not happen overnight. It required somatic safety work, allowing the anger, allowing the question, who am I now? It required me to sit in the identity void long enough for something new to form. Secondary grief creates a gap. And in that gap, something sacred can grow. But only after we stop trying to rush it. Don't rush it. One day at a time, it's 18 years later for me. The first two years are rough. Don't expect to feel better right away and don't let anybody tell you that you should. If you're listening and thinking, Yes, I lost more than just the person, you're not crazy, you're not selfish, you're grieving layered loss. Ask yourself gently, what part of my identity feels gone? What routines disappeared? What version of myself do I miss? Do you miss, you know, taking care of your spouse, loving your spouse? What do you miss? And if you go, of course I do, then celebrate that. You love someone and it's different now, but take care of yourself, but acknowledge what did you lose, what do you miss? Then ask, is that role truly gone? Or is it waiting to evolve? Then ask, what do you do? You know, if you're a grieving parent, guess what? You're still a parent. If you're a widow, you're still capable of love. If you lost a sibling, you're still a sister or brother in your bones. You still are. You're still a grandchild. You're still a child if you've lost a parent. You are still all these things. Secondary grief tries to erase you. Healing gently reclaims you. You can't be erased. I'm gonna close this out. Secondary grief is the quiet ache that follows the loud loss. It's the identity collapse, the social shifts, the invisible role changes, the question of who you are now. And when I say I no longer felt like a mom that was true at the time. But what I really meant at the time is that the role stopped reflecting my motherhood back to me. But never but motherhood never left me. And whatever role you lost, it may not look the same. It may not function the same. But the love that built is still alive in you, it still lives in you. And that love will find your new expression. Be gentle with yourself and the identity in between. The space is sacred of who are you now? Who are you becoming? And know that you are not alone there. You know, I really wanted to do this. All kinds of you know talks on my podcast, and I've been doing five a week right now because there's so much I want to say, and eventually I go back to three days a week, but right now it's Tuesday through Saturday. And this is important because as a grief coach and seeing people trying to navigate what to do, how to live, how to handle life. Where do I go from here? I know that struggle and people looking at you differently weirdly and awkwardly and not knowing what to say, and they're all about their discomfort instead of what you had to go through. That created a lot of anger for me. Because I'm like, how dare you make this about you and your comfort? You didn't lose, you know, I lost. But people will do that because in society we put on a facade, we fake how we feel, we're not taught to go deep. It's a choice. You have to decide to go deep within yourself to heal and grow. And a lot of people don't choose that. And so they don't know what to do when they come across someone going through a heavy grief, and they're just hoping that never happens to them. But eventually we all lose. They say we lose an average of five people that we love deeply, you know, at least five. A lot of people lose a lot more, right? And you know, eventually somebody who didn't get it will unfortunately have to figure it out. But what I would say to you is just be there for you. And the people who can handle being around you, allow them in if you feel like it. But if you need a day alone, tell them. But as you navigate your new identity, don't push for that. Of course, we always push to feel better, but you can't push to feel better with grief. It just has to happen. You know, one day I just woke up and things were lighter. You know, after doing somatic work and counseling and all the different energy techniques, things just got lighter. So do what it takes to take care of you. Do some energy work, do some somatic work, talk to a therapist, find your support groups, find the individual individual support groups that are about I'm no longer a spouse, right? My spouse died, my kid died, whatever you support you need, find it. Because it's necessary, it's not something that you could do alone. You can go worse, you can, you know, downgrade even more emotionally. You could just suffer more, so it's not for you to do alone. Find your support system, and it may be different from the people who you thought would be there, and that's okay. Because your energy change. So you're gonna bring in people who match your current energy. So with that, I want to thank you for listening. Have a great day, and I will see you in the next episode.