Secondary Loss: Grieving Your Parents as Grandparents
- Written by Taylor
If you have kids you know how much joy they bring to your life. Watching them learn and grow, and knowing you’re playing some part in it, is a gift from God. For me, another amazing part of this parenthood journey is seeing how others love my babies. For those of us raising babies without the people we love most by our side, this leaves a gaping hole.
My oldest daughter was 3 months old when my dad died. Quite honestly, I never thought my dad would meet any of my children because he had been sick for so long. Having him meet my daughter when she was 5 weeks old is something I will cherish forever. After she was born he would call me and say, “How is my girl doing?” I quickly learned that my daughter was now his girl. He asked about me second. He called me crying when she was admitted to the hospital when she was 9 weeks old, saying he wanted nothing more than to be with us. We both knew he was too sick to make the trip, though. I knew him meeting my firstborn would be this way...memories I would hold close to my heart and memories I wouldn’t have with my future babies.
My mom is a completely different story. My daughter was just shy of 6 months old when my mom died. She is supposed to be here watching my girls grow. She had just become a grandma, and my daughter was the love of her life. She adored her...I mean ADORED her. She would change all of her diapers, walk her around the house for hours until she fell asleep, wake up with me at 2am feedings to keep me company, and was by our side for that unexpected week long hospital stay. My mom was made to be a grandma.
There are times when I watch my oldest daughter play or talk or do something hilarious, and it stops me in my tracks. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with joy and sorrow at the same time and think “if only my parents could see her now.” They don’t know that we figured out why she wasn’t gaining weight and that she is completely healthy now. They don’t know that her favorite color is yellow, her favorite song is “Barbara Ann” by the Beach Boys, that she is obsessed with books and snowmen, and talks nonstop. They met her, but they don’t know her.
Major milestones and birthdays are always exciting but hard. When my oldest took her first steps I went to my car and cried. Every birthday reminds me that we’re another year further from my parents watching her grow up. And now she can say their names when she sees their pictures. It is adorable how she calls my dad “Ga Hank” (Granddaddy Hank) and my mom “Ga” (Grandma).
With my youngest it’s different. There’s no “they should see her now” like with my oldest. Instead, it’s the sad reality that they don’t even know she exists. They don’t know her name or birthday. They don’t know that she has a huge dimple, almost no hair, and looks just like my dad. It’s a different kind of heartbreak. The reality that they will never meet her.
Many people try to be kind when they talk to me about it. They say things like:
Your kids will know them because your parents live on through you.
They can see your kids grow up; they are watching over you.
At least your parents got to meet your oldest. That was so special.
However, these well-meaning words leave out the only thing that is certain: they will never actually know my children or spend time with them side by side. Personally, I don’t think people can look down and “watch” the world. It’d be painful, and there is no such thing as pain in heaven. I believe that they spend all of their time worshiping our Savior, who they are now with face to face.
I grew up without ever having met my dad’s parents. They were always these serious people in black and white photos who I didn’t know. Sure I knew some stories about them, but I didn’t feel a deep love or connection to them. They always seemed more like historical figures to me than actual people let alone family members. I don’t want this to be how my daughters view their Grandma and Granddaddy Hank. I want them to know my mom’s deep belly laugh and the way my dad always tapped his toe to the beat of music. I want them to have actual memories of their grandparents, memories that we can share. But all of that was taken away with their deaths. I want them to know my parents just as much as I want my parents to know them. But, to be honest, I don’t really know how to make that happen. It’s something I continue working through as my daughters grow up and I work through my grief.
For those of you who have lost parents or someone that would have loved your children, you lost not only your loved one but who that loved one was to your children. So much of grieving my parents has been grieving the loss of my daughters’ grandparents. The secondary losses you experience in grief are painful and real. They are often the part of grief that hits you when you least expect it. Grieving my parents makes sense. Grieving them as grandparents always takes me by surprise.
I’ve made an intentional effort to teach my daughters about their grandparents, even when they are too young to understand. Here are a few things my husband and I have done to make my parents part of our girls’ lives.
Showing them photos and videos of my parents: I made a family photo book with photos of my parents and other family members in it. I show my oldest daughter photos and videos of her with my parents and talk about how much they loved seeing her.
Talking about my parents: I talk about things my parents enjoyed or things that remind me of them to my girls throughout the day. For example, I tell my oldest that Grandma was a gymnast and cheerleader when she climbs on my husband and poses. I tell my youngest that she looks like her Granddaddy Hank.
Special items: I have things that belonged to my parents that we use daily. I tell my girls about them. We have quilts that belonged to my mom, a music box from my dad that plays “Edelweiss,” etc.
Singing them songs that my parents loved: Both of my parents had a love of music. I make sure to sing and play songs that remind me of my parents and talk about it with my girls.
Grieve out loud: I try not to hide my emotions from my girls. I tell them I miss my Mama and Daddy. I cry when I need to.
Celebrating my parents’ birthdays: We make sure to have some of my parents’ favorite foods and share stories about them on their birthdays. We also try to make it so that we’re with Morgan on those days. We eat donut sticks and have “breakfast for supper” on my dad’s birthday and play Bruce Springsteen and eat tacos on my mom’s birthday.
There is no easy solution here. Some days, when I show my oldest daughter my parents’ picture, it’s painful to watch her touch their faces and say their names. But I want her to know how much they loved her, that she was so special to them. And for my daughter they never met, I want her to know who they were, how much they would have adored her. And most of all, I want my daughters to see that they are so much more than my husband and me. There are parts of my parents in them, too.