The phrase “beloved dead” is a long-standing literary expression used mostly in 19th- and 20th-century literature to refer to those we have loved and lost. It emphasizes that while someone has died, the bond of love remains.
When my son Charles died, my love for him did not. It continued, and for a long time, it felt like I had nowhere to put it until I found a direction in which to go.
I would find out what it meant to carry my lost loved one in my heart. Because even though my child is no longer here on earth, my relationship with Charles after his death by suicide has continued and evolved.
The idea that I’d have a relationship with someone who has died might make me sound like I need a good therapist or that I am unable to accept his death.
Some might even say and have said, “She just can’t seem to move on.”
I haven’t “gotten over it.” I never will because grief over the loss of a child is a lifelong journey.
However, I have moved forward and learned to carry the grief, and him with me.
My back and heart have grown strong enough to carry the grief and walk beside it, which took years. I have also learned how to carry his legacy forward in a way that works for me, honors his memory, and suits my talents.
Grief is something that lives alongside me now
As my grief has evolved and softened, so has my relationship with Charles.
I talk to the air a lot. (I’m grateful that earbuds disguise these otherworldly conversations.)
Usually, I’m consulting my beloved dead for advice, or laughing about something I know Charles would find funny, or giving him grief for a critique he’d likely be delivering to me if he were alive.
While I have not read tarot cards, consulted an 8-ball, or used an Ouija board to communicate with my beloved dead, there would be nothing wrong with engaging in these practices if I did. Plenty of cultures use mediums, practice sorcery, and otherworldly rituals when someone dies.
The criterion is that if these rituals take over one’s life and disrupt activities of daily living, this could indicate an issue. And I don’t mean for a day or a week, I mean months or years.
My friend Kate is creating a dedicated scrapbook to commemorate her son, who died. I wrote a book, Diary of a Broken Mind. Writing and other creative activities and rituals like that help a person process the loss and figure out how they will move forward with their deceased loved one.
How do you figure out this relationship with your beloved dead? By trying things on and finding ways to connect with the activities, people, and things they loved.
All of this is normal and healthy
Don’t let anyone grief shame you out of this relationship, make you feel crazy, stuck, or wrong.
I don’t have a child I can hug, or hold, see graduate, or get married. But sometimes I feel his presence even if that merely exists in my heart and head. That’s what I have, and I treasure it.
AnneMoss Rogers is a leading wellness and suicide education expert and one of the top mental health speakers and suicide prevention speakers. Known for her powerful, motivational keynotes, AnneMoss combines her personal story of loss with proven strategies to help organizations build a wellness culture that drives results and saves lives. She speaks at conferences, workplaces, K-12 schools, and universities, delivering impactful presentations that inspire change and promote mental health awareness.
AnneMoss does this work in memory of her son, Charles, who struggled with anxiety, depression, and addiction, and died by suicide at age 20 in 2015.
Ann, I love this so much. I talk to Jason every morning to thank him for pushing me forward in the work I started because of him. Once when things were so bad I read an article on Heroin addiction that said there was only a 33% chance of beating it over a lifetime. At that time I thought “I’ll take those odds as I would accept whatever time we might have together.” I had 10 good years with my Boy before the last relapse was so horrific for him, me and everyone who loved him that I knew there was no coming back from it. He was one of 110,000+ to die of a fentanyl overdose during COVID.
After 4 overdoses, 2 rounds of sepsis and endocarditis, he died alone after someone delivered his fatal dose. He died on a cardboard box on the living room floor of his Grandma’s house where he spent so many Christmas’s and other happy times. He was there for 10 hours, with NARCAN in the house and my DIL downstairs sleeping. I sat on the front porch waiting to see him after they processed the scene, but they told me it was bad and the coroner wouldn’t let me see him.
I was allowed to sit in the bus with him and touch his body bag, telling him I loved him and always would. After his body came back from his autopsy, the funeral director told me it was best not to see him as they had opened his skull. I had to see him so I took his Marine hat to them and said it would be okay. I asked my husband, my other children and my siblings and Mama if they wanted to see him, stating there was no pressure and only if they felt they could handle it. At first my husband said no, but then changed his mind. He was so glad he did as were all Jason’s family members who went with me. My Jason was beautiful. He face was clear and he looked so happy and at peace. This has helped me accept what I could not change. I miss my Son everyday, but I know he is at peace. I love you, Miss Anne.
Tears. I’m glad you got those years, Cathy. Thank you for telling this story here. Much love.
Great post AM. I talk to Whitten a lot, usually in my mind. But sometimes in the garden, we will have a conversation.
Usually the out loud conversations are held at the cemetery, but I find it makes me sad to go now. Now that my dad is also there, maybe that’s it?
I hadn’t thought about where I might have my conversations. I do know he is joking with me when I get onstage. About the cemetery. It might be that your father’s death is too fresh. I think it will change for you over time. I also think it’s ok to look after yourself. You will know when the desire to visit the cemetery outweighs your fear of sadness. ♥️
Thank you so kindly for sharing this article. It has taken me about 4 years to feel comfortable to even begin to reconnect back to my partner. These last 4 years have seen me fight against remembering as remembering is to acknowledge my loss. Sometimes people tote the idea that I need to stay in touch whilst, others can appreciate my hesitancy in not wanting to do so. It is just too painful sometimes and for those who may be estranged, maybe they cannot, or feel that they cannot, keep a connection with the person they lost, open. For to do so may be inferred by others as hypocrisy and we may begin to feel that such is true. All of these are the ways that we can grieve; no right or wrong – these ways “Just are.”
Writing has been my way to process the journey that I have been on. Even when I see my counselor, I tend to read out things that I have written, as this is easier than speaking and then becoming upset.
However, I am beginning to connect back to the relationship that I lost and that is the whole point of what you are inviting us to do, I do believe.
You and I have a lot in common. Thank you so much for commenting. It helps so many others