Navigating the Invisible Struggles of Grief and Loss

Title: Navigating the Invisible Struggles of Grief and Loss 

In this heartfelt episode of the Real and Rooted Podcast, Lori shares her deeply personal experience with grief after the loss of her child, Kole. She explores the messy, non-linear nature of grief, the importance of understanding triggers, setting boundaries, and creating rituals for healing. Whether you're grieving yourself or supporting someone through loss, this episode offers compassion, practical insights, and encouragement.

Key Topics:

• The unspoken realities of grief and the invisible weight of loss

• How societal expectations often misunderstand the grieving process

• The significance of triggers and how they affect healing

• Practical tools for managing grief, including personalization of rituals

• The importance of honest communication and boundary setting

• The role of support systems, including one-on-one support and support groups

• Self-compassion and patience in the journey toward healing

• Creating new traditions and honoring loved ones' legacies

Timestamps: 

00:00 - Introduction: The silent struggles after loss and why understanding matters
 03:22 - Reflecting on Kole's gifts and advocacy inspired by grief
 04:35 - The unpredictable, non-linear nature of grief and societal misunderstandings
 06:09 - Holidays and triggers: Finding new meaning and traditions
 07:34 - Moments of emotional overwhelm and the social masks we wear
 09:18 - The internal storm: sleepless nights, rage, guilt, and numbness
 10:30 - Misunderstandings about grief and the importance of validation
 11:22 - Specific triggers: songs, smells, and memories of loved ones
 13:01 - The power of personal rituals and understanding triggers
 14:38 - The legacy of loved ones and keeping their memory alive
 15:45 - Manifestations of grief: anger, guilt, withdrawal, and changes in faith
 16:02 - Communicating needs, setting boundaries, and avoiding pity
 17:37 - The importance of creating personalized support systems and rituals
 19:01 - Practical strategies: journaling, counseling, and support groups
 20:23 - Self-compassion, patience, and giving yourself grace
 22:04 - Navigating relationships after loss through clear communication
 23:27 - Managing social interactions and setting healthy boundaries
 25:00 - Reframing expectations of friends and support during grief
 26:07 - Final takeaways: grief is personal, healing is non-linear
 27:01 - Honoring your feelings, creating new life after loss, and resources for support

Resources & Links:

• Reflective Roots

• Book: "On Grief and Grieving" by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross & David Kessler
• Book: Missing Pieces

Connect with Lori:

• Facebook

Thank you for listening and for honoring your grief journey. Share this episode with someone who might need to hear these words. Remember, you’re not alone — your feelings are valid, and healing takes time.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:03

Welcome to the Real and Rooted Podcast, where real stories mean rounded healing. I'm Lori Kendall, founder of Reflective Roots, where I work as a grief navigator, a companion for the tough times in life, author of missing pieces, the final solution, and your host. Each week we'll explore the experiences, the losses, the breakthroughs, and the honest conversations that transform who we are becoming. This is a space to reconnect with yourself, reclaim the pieces that you've lost along the way, and grow in ways you never thought were possible or expected. Let's get rooted and begin. In Missing Pieces, the final salute, a mother's journey through service, sorrow, and survival, you'll walk through my story of preparing for the service of grief, of resilience, and rediscovery. And along the way, I hope you find space for your own story. This book isn't about being perfect. It's about becoming whole again, even when some pieces feel forever changed. Order your copy of Missing Pieces today on Amazon or at MissingPiecesbook.com. Join other readers who are finding their own story. Encapsulate it within the pages. Gain insights and learn more at Real and Rooted Podcast, where real stories take root and healing grows. Missing Peace is the final salute, a mother's journey through service, sorrow, and survival. A story of love, loss, and becoming whole again. Welcome to the Real and Rooted Podcast, where we explore the realities of life that often goes unspoken. I'm your host, Lori, and today we're diving into a topic that's hard to talk about, but incredibly important. The invisible struggles after loss of a relationship, or in my case, the death of a child. You see, we just passed uh a Christian holiday, Easter, and it was the first time that I've gone back to church. Probably not the best holiday to uh say we're going to attend church for the first time after Cole's passing, but I realized it went along with the podcast and everything that I'm trying to do. How I'm trying to help others. You see, God gave his only begotten son to save us, to wash away our sins. And I talk about the gifts that our loved ones leave behind. We have eternal life because of God, and in our relationships, the death of that relationship, there's always a lesson to be learned. I talk about the gifts that Cole gave me uh after his death, the ability to write a book, to help others, the advocacy for military mental health, to find a voice, and to help others walk through their own path of grief. I don't believe this is anything that I would have had, unfortunately, without his loss. I would have continued my life, I would have watched my children all grow, I would have treasured every moment I get to see my grandson, and we would have gone on as though life was normal while others suffered. And for that I apologize. You see, grief is messy, it doesn't fit a schedule, it doesn't follow anyone's idea of what it should look like, and often the people around us, friends, family, even colleagues, they don't really understand what we're going through. That lack of understanding can be extremely isolating. Today I want to talk about what those around us oftentimes miss, how the effects of loss and how they're not understanding isn't their fault. I don't think anyone can understand unless they walk through it themselves. But how the moments they miss, how that affects the grieving process and the ways that we need, or the ways we do navigate that invisible weight. I'll share personal reflections, research insights, and practical tools for anyone listening, whether you're grieving or supporting someone who is. After losing a relationship, or in my case, for those of us who have lost a child, the world doesn't stop and people carry on. Birthdays come and go. In fact, I've celebrated two of Cole's birthdays without him here. Other holidays, Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day, Labor Day, they all have a different meaning after a loss. But the people around us carry on. Deadlines are met, and the world moves while you're frozen. Friends might say you'll get over it, or time heals all wounds. But they don't see the everyday battles. The empty chair at the table, the songs that trigger memories, or the social events that feel impossible to attend. You see, holidays for me somehow, some way need to find a new tradition, a new meaning. I can't constantly sit at a dinner table surrounded by family when I know a big piece of my family is missing. And yet no one around me understands the difficult way or the difficulties even that I face in continuing the same traditions that we've always done. You see, grief is not linear. I've said it before. It comes in waves and oftentimes unexpected. I had to excuse myself from church very quickly. I found myself in the ladies' restroom crying. Others noticed. They came in to comfort me. And one person in particular said the words that I wanted anyone around me to understand. It doesn't get easier. You just live with it differently. I haven't found that differently yet when it comes to holidays. You see, one moment in the morning I was laughing and cherishing my other children. My husband excused himself quickly for the same reasons I did at church. It's not that we want to take away from anyone or anything that we're experiencing. But being stuck or realizing that empty chair will never be filled is heartbreaking. And that's often the case. One moment you may be laughing, one moment you may be somber, and the neck next minute you find yourself crying. It's not weakness, but it is the way humans experience loss. The invisible weight that people can't see are the sleepless nights, the moments of rage, seconds, moments, minutes, hours of guilt. Or even the numbness that we carry around inside of us. Others see you're okay on the outside, but internally there's a storm. Looking outside or looking fine on the outside, but carrying pain on the inside. You see, dealing with individuals who are walking through or on the path of loss often seem okay. It's a social misunderstanding and well-meaning comments like at least you had time together, or you'll find someone else. Minimize the depth of your experience. It can feel lonely when people misunderstand the grief. So I want you to take a moment and just breathe. Acknowledge that your feelings are valid, even if no one around you understands. Naming that pain is the first step in processing it. People assume you can move on quickly. Grief doesn't follow a calendar. Losing relationships or a child reshapes the world around you. Expecting quick closure is unrealistic and unfair. People don't understand triggers. There are a number of songs that I can tell you exactly where I was when I heard them. Traveling Soldier played as I dropped coal off to leave for boot camp. Jason Aldean's song of Seeing Him again was the song played at his graduation. John Denver Country Roads played at his funeral. And man, I must tell you, if you're on the East Coast, I think West Virginia dumped millions into their tourism marketing campaigns because that song plays every day multiple times. I've been able to learn how to listen to it. Maybe find some solitude in it, actually. Because every time I think about Cole, and maybe that's what he wants. A passing comment can send you spiraling. So oftentimes, and sometimes when something is going to happen, or I need to make a decision in my own life, I can smell coal. And I know that he's with me then. You see, those around you might see your reaction is overblown. But triggers are very, very real. And the silence can hurt more than the words people say. Some people will void you after loss because they're uncomfortable. But I'm here to tell you that avoidance reinforces the isolation that we sometimes find ourselves in. You may hear I didn't know what to say, but sometimes showing up quietly is enough. When you lose a child, one of the biggest fears is that they're forgotten. I put it in the front of my dedication to my book, thanking my family for allowing me to write it so that at times when I feel that Cole may be forgotten, I know there's living, breathing work out there that reminds individuals of who he was, who he is, because his legacy lives in us as a family. And I hope that someday that legacy lives inside of others. Giving more than they get, living for the person beside them, and directing others to where they need to be. That right there, that's his legacy. That's what I want people to remember him for. And just having others say his name means more to a family that's grieving than avoiding us. You see, grief manifests itself in unexpected ways. Anger at friends, family, sometimes colleagues. The guilt or self-blame that we harbor inside of us, overworking or withdrawing, changes in faith, or the worldview. But I'm gonna give some practical advice for those of us who are walking the path, sort of a reminder that we need to communicate our needs. Even small instructions like, I need space today. Help me, hold me. Sometimes my husband needs to communicate that he can't be touched that day. He just needs the space. And I'm intentional with asking him to communicate that because to me, someone who needs that physical touch not being touched feels as though it's rejection. But our ways of grieving are different, and I have to respect that. I have to be intentional in the decisions that I make, and I needed to communicate with him that I needed him to communicate with me. Setting boundaries with toxic advice or pity. And I needed to do this for myself. I needed to protect my mental and emotional space from those who want to provide pity for me. I don't need your pity. I don't want to be pitied. That has to be the biggest. I don't know. The biggest pain for me is I don't want your pity. Something happened in my life. Catastrophic. But that tragedy should not define the way I step forward in my life, in my community, in the world. And for those who pity me, please don't. Because every day I'm looking for the gifts that Cole left behind. And I'm sure you are too. Your loved ones have left you gifts. Be strong enough to find them. What helps even when others don't understand is we need to create our own support system. We seek those who listen without judgment. We could join grief groups and either they can be in person or online. Sometimes that's too heavy. I know I can't and won't attend a support group that is a group because I would find myself leaving with everyone else's pain. It's exactly why, even though I attend or participate with a counselor, it's exactly why I need one-on-one. And exactly why I created reflective roots. It's that one-on-one support with a peer who is also walking the path that you may find yourself on. Journaling or voice recording your thoughts. It's how I wrote the book. It's how I continue to walk this path on this podcast. Maybe you want to incorporate rituals for healing, lighting a candle, making a memory album, or marking anniversaries in a meaningful way. Maybe it's releasing balloons, though I don't condone that just because the Coast Guard gets to clean them up for the environment. But what you can do is find that ritual, build new traditions. And rituals give yourself and your grief acknowledgement when others may not understand. It's having a sense of self-compassion and patience. Honestly, I got so mad at hearing that. I had to figure out what it meant. You may laugh, but I've never been patient with myself. And so giving yourself room to be imperfect is exactly what that is. Giving yourself compassion and patience in space. Grieving yourself is an act of bravery. Allowing yourself to cry, to be angry, to laugh without explanation. Remind yourself you are allowed to feel however you feel. So take a moment and think about one small ritual you could create yourself for yourself this week to honor your grief. Even five minutes of intentional reflection. It's exactly what I'm doing in this podcast. I remember when graduation came and Cole was told he. He had to sing his class song, which happened to be that Jason Aldeen song. He grumbled. He was not a singer, definitely not someone for public display. And I laugh now. He was a man of few words. The week in which Bootcamp required them to learn how to address everything in capital letters. I literally got a postcard with the address. Nothing more. No, I love you. No, I miss home. Just our address written in all capitals. You see, how to navigate relationships after a loss is a requirement for yourself and for others to understand. We need to communicate clearly, tell people what is helpful and what isn't. As I said, I need physical touch. Sometimes my husband can't take it. But what was helpful was that we communicated intentionally about it. I don't want pity from others. So when we're attending family events, I need to myself give myself a voice. Maybe the conversation has turned to death, and I just need to express myself of I appreciate you know your support, but I can't talk about the funeral today. Or I can't talk about the ways and way in which Cole made me laugh today, or the sadness that his passing brings. But the one thing we have to avoid is the way that we retreat sometimes. Because that complete isolation prolongs our suffering. Invite one trusted friend for coffee or a walk when you're ready. And if they're respectful, they won't ask you to talk about anything except maybe the weather, what you're doing this week. Do you want to attend an event? I haven't been able to go to a painting event or anything crafting because I was at one that week. My tragedy week. I set a purchase order for a challenge coin holder as a congratulations gift for Cole. And yet that same week became the worst week of my life. And so it's hard for me to go back to a crafting event. Although I do want to support my friends that host them. And sometimes we just need to reframe our expectations. Friends may never fully understand, and that's okay. But we need to focus on those who try, even if it's imperfectly. I remember trying to explain to someone why my grief felt like a storm inside. They said, I can't imagine that, and that's the truth. No one can fully imagine it. And that's why creating your own space, your own safe space, matters. So as we close today, I want you to remember these key takeaways. It's messy, and definitely not linear. Others may not understand your pain, but that doesn't invalidate it. Create your own rituals, build new traditions, support systems, and establish your boundaries. Healing takes time. So even in the world that moves on, your love, your memories, your grief, they're valid. You're not broken for feeling what you feel. You're human. And in honoring your pain, you find the first steps toward life reshaped, not erased by loss. It becomes your life after. So thank you for joining me today. If this episode resonated, consider sharing it with someone who might be silently carrying their grief. I want them to understand they're not alone. I walk the path too. And if they need further assistance or desire the one-on-one assistance that I talk about with reflective roots, find me on Facebook. Because I will take that walk with them. Thank you for joining again today, and I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful day. Take care.