Loss Part 2 of 3

Brian Sankarsingh reflects on the loss of a loved one and what it means for those who are left behind

My first experience with the death of a loved one came when I was just ten years old. My mother’s only brother, and my favourite uncle, suffered a fall and concussion from which he never recovered. I was still too young to understand what was happening, but I could feel the empty space in my heart where my uncle once lived. Since that time, as many of us have, I have witnessed the death of friends, family and parents. When someone we love dies, it is not merely their absence that we feel. It can feel as though a part of us died with them. This is especially true when considering the ways in which we embed fragments of ourselves into the memories and moments we shared with that person. As they pass away, these fragments, bound to those memories, seem to vanish, creating an invisible but profound loss of self. When a loved one dies, a part of us dies too—specifically, the part of us that is interwoven with the shared experiences, memories, and emotional bonds we forged with them.

Loss

Empty house
Bare walls holding up faceless pictures
Unoccupied chair
An impression still lingers in the cushions
Hollow words
Spoken with love that I cannot seem to feel
Vacuous void
Where my heart once resided 
Uneasy quiet
Where your voice once existed 
Where to from here
Up
Down
Left
Right
In
Out
Through 
My compass is gone and
I feel adrift in this
Ocean of 
Loss
A miserable dingy
Caught in the doldrums
Of sorrow 
A purposeful oar
Stares back at me 
“Use me” he cries 
To do what, I wonder
To go...where
No
I shall be content to 
Sit here for 
A while
Contemplating 
Loss

It helps if we look at human relationships as not just interactions with “another” but the exchange of self between two people. Over time, we begin to identify ourselves in part by our connection with others; my wife\husband, my friend. Psychologist Erik Erikson's theory of psychosocial development[1] suggests that our identities are shaped by social relationships, underscoring that who we are is partially a product of those with whom we engage. There is the popular saying that goes - show me your friends and I will tell you who you are. It suggests that the kind of people you choose to associate with inevitably influences your life. In other words, your circle of friends play a very important role in who you perceive you are. This is particularly true of our most intimate relationships. In these cases, the boundaries between "self" and "other" begin to blur. Through shared experiences, we construct joint realities, a shared narrative of life, love, and existence.

For instance, memories such as a childhood spent with a sibling, long conversations with a parent, or intimate moments with a partner become less about the experience itself and more about the meaning of sharing that experience with someone else. We anchor these moments to our loved ones; they become the witnesses to our lives and we, theirs. When they die, it is as if those moments are erased or altered, because the co-owner of those memories is no longer there to validate, recall, or re-live them with us. Memory, identity, and love are intertwined. As shared memories form, they serve as landmarks within our identity. We define ourselves through these experiences—what we did, how we felt, and the emotions we shared with the other person. However, when the person we shared those memories with dies, it can feel as though part of our identity has been fragmented. This is not a metaphorical sentiment but a deeply psychological truth.

The You in Me

I lost the me you kept in you
I lost the “you” as well 
Not sure if I can see this through
It’s still too soon to tell 
I hear your voice calling my name
Your footsteps in the house
But life will never be the same 
Of that there is no doubt
The you in me, it is still here
Protected in my soul
Oh, how I wish you’d reappear
That I’d once again be whole

In his book The Denial of Death, Ernest Becker[1] posits that humans have an inherent fear of death because it signals the end of our significance. We live on in the memories of those we love. The reverse is also true: when someone we love dies, it can feel like the memories we shared become unstable or incomplete, as though without their presence, the significance of the moments we shared with them also fades. The mutual recognition of shared experiences is lost, and along with it, the part of us that lived within those moments.

The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre argues in Being and Nothingness[2] that human relationships involve seeing ourselves through the eyes of others. In relationships, we construct part of our identity based on how our loved ones perceive us. This means that the part of ourselves that existed in the gaze of the deceased is no longer accessible. We lose the validation, the recognition, and the emotional feedback that helped sustain that version of ourselves.

Grief is not just about missing the person we lost; it is about mourning the part of ourselves that has been lost with them. The concept of ambiguous loss, developed by Pauline Boss[3], helps explain this phenomenon. While Boss primarily focuses on situations where someone is physically absent but psychologically present (such as in cases of dementia), the concept easily applies to death. The person may be physically gone, but the psychological presence of the relationship and its memories remain, creating a form of unresolved or incomplete grief. We are left mourning not just the person but also the part of ourselves tied to them.

This idea is particularly poignant in romantic relationships. When a spouse or partner dies, for example, the daily rituals, conversations, and small shared moments that once defined the relationship are gone. More than just companionship, the sense of self that was nurtured in the relationship begins to wither unfed on the vine of the surviving partner’s life. We are no longer the same person without the loved one, because the dynamic interplay of love and shared experience that once existed is now impossible.

However, while part of us dies with our loved ones, another part of us survives. Humans possess an extraordinary capacity for resilience and adaptation. While the part of us tied to shared memories may never fully return, we can learn to reconstruct our identities in the aftermath of loss. We must nevertheless allow ourselves the space to grieve. Grieving is finding ways to reinvest emotional energy into new relationships and experiences. In doing so, we build a new sense of self, albeit one that is changed, reshaped, and guided by our loss. Moreover, the memories we shared can transform into sources of strength. Instead of focusing on the loss of self, individuals may draw meaning from memories and find ways to integrate their loved one’s influence into their own evolving identity. For example, someone might adopt certain values, behaviors, or rituals that honor the deceased, keeping them alive in spirit. In this way, while a part of us may have died, another part is reborn, shaped by the enduring impact of the person we loved.

There is no denying that the death of a loved one is not only a physical absence but a deeply psychological loss of self. That part of ourselves that existed within shared memories and experiences seems to die with them, and it can leave us fragmented and disoriented. Yet, through grief and reflection, we can reconstruct a new sense of self. In that new paradigm, we can seek to honor both the loss and the continuing influence of the loved one we lost. Although we will never regain the part of ourselves that has died with them, we can integrate the essence of those shared moments into who we are and who we will become. In this way, even in death, love persists, shaping who we are and how we live.

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[1] https://www.verywellmind.com/erik-eriksons-stages-of-psychosocial-development-2795740

[1] https://www.amazon.ca/Denial-Death-Ernest-Becker/dp/0684832402

[2] https://www.amazon.ca/Being-Nothingness-Jean-Paul-Sartre/dp/0671867806

[3] https://www.ambiguousloss.com/

Bio: BRIAN SANKARSINGH is a Trinidadian-born Canadian immigrant who has published several books of poetry on a wide range of social and historical themes including racism, colonialism, and enslavement. Sankarsingh artfully blends prose and poetry into his storytelling creating an eclectic mix with both genres. This unique approach is sure to provide something for everyone.

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