What Roles Did Your Person Play?
When we lose someone – whether it’s through death, separation, a life-changing illness, or estrangement – it’s a multifaceted loss. We don’t just lose one version of a person. We lose all the roles they played in our life, all the ways they supported us, and yes, even all the ways that they annoyed us.
Today I invite you to engage in an exercise that I often share with clients, one that invites you to both reflect on what you’ve lost and begin to chart a path forward.
To begin, write out all the things your person was to you and all the roles that they played in your life. You can do this for other losses and identity shifts too. For example, “My pre-cancer body felt. . . “ or “When I had that job, I felt…” or “For me, being married was a source of. . . “
As you write, I encourage you to reflect on both the important and the mundane, the big supports and the tiny details.
For example, you might write “[Your person’s name] was. . .
the one I felt safe with.
the one I could call when I had a flat tire.
the person I could latch onto at a party when I felt insecure.
the one who sent me the best memes.
the source of financial stability in our family.
the only one who understood how manipulative my brother can be.
the one who gave me spot-on TV recommendations.
the one who made me a mother.
the one I could call for advice.
the one I could call to gossip.
the one who gave the best hugs.
The first purpose of this exercise is to give yourself some validation. It’s one thing to say, “I lost my mother.” It’s another thing to realize that your mother was your source of safety, or the one who always said she was proud of you, or the person you could call in the middle of a kitchen emergency for advice on how to salvage dinner.
Understanding all the roles that your person played can help you understand why this all feels so big, disorienting, and ever-changing.
Take some time with this list. Reflect on it and allow emotions to arise. If it feels right, share the list (or parts of it) with a trusted person. Give yourself a whole lot of tenderness.
When you’ve done that, I invite you to move on to part two, which asks the question, “Given what I cannot change, where might these sources of support be available to me now? How might I fill some of these roles?”
This is not an exercise in replacement; no one can replace who or what you’ve lost. Rather, this is a pathway to begin thinking about how you might feel more supported and cared for as you continue living your life after loss.
Don’t try to tackle everything on your list; there may be roles that are never fully filled, and they certainly won’t all be filled today. To begin, I recommend that you pick a handful of things off your list (maybe 2-5) and ask yourself, “Where might this be available to me now?” For example:
If your person was the one you felt safe with, you might ask, “Where is safety available to me now?”
If your person was the one who made you laugh, you might ask, “Who might exchange cat videos with me on a random Tuesday?”
If your pre-cancer body made you feel strong, you might ask, “In what ways does my body feel strong now?”
Remember that grief asks us to live in the “and.” As you complete this exercise, allow two things to be true. You can honor your loss and know that there’s no replacing your person while also acknowledging your need to find new ways of feeling loved, seen, and supported as you live this life you never asked for.
As always, take gentle care of yourself.
