After loss, your capacity for love grows

I would have never thought this was possible. Especially in the early days. when my heart hurt so much I thought I would implode. But when people came by the house, helped me plan the service, helped me pack and move when I could barely put one foot in front of the other, I felt it then. That bloom in the chest like I had not experienced before.

It literally feels like my heart swells up.

I have always been an empathetic person. But now? It’s like it’s taken over me. Maybe because Charles was an empath. Maybe it’s just a byproduct of devastating loss.

When I hear a story, I literally feel it. In my case, I stop short of actually absorbing it as Charles did. As those who suffer from depression often do. I have to have boundaries to do the work I do. Otherwise it would drag me underwater.

I think for some who haven’t dealt with their grief, feeling this new depth of love might be illusive.  You can’t deny grief and find it.

This depth of love is the gift of the healing process. It’s the gift your loved one left behind for you. Please pay it forward in their memory.

Judge less

Published by

AnneMoss Rogers

AnneMoss Rogers is a mental health and suicide education expert, mental health speaker, suicide prevention trainer and consultant. She is author of the Book, Diary of a Broken Mind and co-author of Emotionally Naked: A Teacher's Guide to Preventing Suicide and Recognizing Students at Risk with Kim O'Brien PhD, LICSW. She raised two boys, Richard and Charles, and lost her younger son, Charles to addiction and suicide on June 5, 2015. She is a motivational speaker who empowers by educating and provides life saving strategies and emotionally healthy coping skills. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now that's the legacy she carries forward in her son's memory. Mental Health Speakers Website.

2 thoughts on “After loss, your capacity for love grows”

  1. I had to find a new purpose for living after my son, Ray, died at the age of 39. I explored many options; one of the ones I settled on was becoming a hospice volunteer. It is so incredibly humbling to have perfect strangers be so grateful for the little bit of time I give them. They often have dementia but they know I’m a new friend and thank me for coming. It’s all hard work, but I do it in Ray’s memory–because I know he would be proud of me and he loved older people. 🙂

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