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Sometimes the more difficult losses are the ones that happen after our loved one is dead and buried.

Often referred to as secondary loss, this additional loss of having to move, leave friends, change jobs, schools and/or communities can affect us as powerfully as death itself.

"I’m so sorry your father died. You must miss him terribly," a well-intentioned teacher tells a new student.

"Yes," the girl replies, "but not as much as I miss my best friend Lisa and my old room."

When a child is asked such a question, the answer is usually a simple "yes" or a nod of the head.

It is not socially acceptable to say you miss your friend more than your father, so most people (adults included) keep their unacknowledged, private losses to themselves.

They keep their unseen pain and resentments hidden under layers of protective shells, and may or may not see how such feelings are affecting their lives.

For many people, it isn’t that they disliked the person who died or don’t miss them terribly — but simply that other matters are presently taking priority.

If the breadwinner suddenly dies without having left any financial security for his family, then they must deal with the changes, focus their energy on the current crisis and struggle to survive.

Their grief gets put on hold as their life is tossed upside down.

We often tuck away the pain for the person who died until we have some stability in our lives. Then we become overwhelmed and surprised when the full impact of the loss hits us head-on.

"After my husband died from a heart attack," the mother of three stated, "I didn’t know how we would get by. We didn’t have enough money to make the monthly payments on the mortgage.

"My salary didn’t cut it. I decided we had to sell the house and buy a small condo. We had lived in that house for 16 years," she added sadly. "I tried to find a place in the same school district, but they were all too expensive.

"I don’t have any family in the area to help out, and I refused to move back to the Midwest where my mother still lives.

"We ended up a ways out of town. I had to change the two oldest kids to different schools and find a new daycare program for the youngest."

Her eyes began to tear, as she looked down at the floor.

"That was two years ago. It’s only now that it’s started to sink in, the fact that James won’t be coming home. That he’s dead. That I’m all alone."

Secondary losses can be difficult and complicated when you loved the person who died, and just as painful and difficult when the person who died was someone you had mixed emotions about or even despised.

"I was shocked at the confusion and anger that bombarded me after my uncle killed himself," a man in his 50s told me. "He had always been such a bastard to my mother and I, and I’m almost certain he abused my sister when she was little. I hated his guts and hadn’t wanted anything to do with him."

Pausing, his face turning red. "Then he goes and offs himself. Who had to clean up the physical and financial mess he left behind? My mother and me! Can you believe it? He’s still screwing us over."

Everyone experiences some secondary losses, some more than others.

If a colleague, friend or family member has had someone die, don’t automatically assume that all of his or her feelings are about missing the love and presence of the one who died.

They may be feeling a mixture of complicated emotions and thoughts, and may be more concerned with what’s in front of their face than the one who is out of sight.

Don’t be afraid to ask. Find out what is going on for them right now. Don’t assume anything.

Show your concern and care by asking honest, open-ended questions and acknowledging and validating their experience.

Ask about other changes that may have occurred since the death. Ask them what kind of relationship they had with the person who died. Discover what kinds of support they have or don’t have. What do they need? What do they want?

Leave your judgments and comments about where you think they should be or how they should behave in your mind’s compost bin.

You are not them. You haven’t had the same experience. You don’t know the details or the intricacies of the relationship they had with the person who died.

You don’t have the right to walk their journey for them.

Sometimes you can give them a lift with some practical information and tools, material assistance, listening ears and compassionate attention.

Gabriel Constans is a counselor in the Center for Grief and Loss in the Hospice Caring Project of Santa Cruz County, located in Aptos.

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