Becoming Her After Loss: Why I Stopped Treating My Identity Like Something to Repair

Do you have a child? It is one of the easiest questions in the world to ask, and every time someone asked it on an airplane, it came up for me. I founded Spano & Company, where I work with founders and executives on human development and leadership, and I hold a PhD in Human and Organisational Systems. That path began because, from a young age, I could see potential in people that they could not always see in themselves. Today I describe myself as a developmental coach, a systems thinker, and a parent whose life was changed by the death of my son Michael. If your life changed in a way you never planned, and the old labels do not seem to fit you anymore, I wrote this story for you, and I promise it will not tie everything up with a neat bow.

After my son died, people came up to talk to me. I know they were concerned about me, and I also remember feeling awkward and disoriented in those moments, because I did not know how to talk to them while I was in such a confused state. The airplane question was another place where this showed up, since it came up for me every time someone asked whether I had a child, and it makes me think about how much sits inside a question that sounds so simple.

Many parents tell me that they do not think of themselves as bereaved parents. The loss is completely real, which makes it interesting that the label does not quite capture the experience. I have come to see identity after loss as something that does not need to be repaired.

Parents who have lived through it describe early grief as treacherous terrain and later grief as flat terrain, a stretch with its own challenges. Those challenges include feeling less connected to their child and feeling pressure to put on an act around other people (Source: Illness, Crisis & Loss, 2025). I make a distinction between the urgency of early grief and the deeper work of integration that unfolds over time, and I think the second part deserves far more attention than it gets.

Plenty of people also assume that grief gets easier with time. Among 46 parents whose children had died of cancer, 58 percent reported symptoms of grief, and disturbances showed up even long after the child’s death (Source: Omega Journal of Death and Dying, 2020). The psychological strain that many bereaved parents carry changes very little even years or decades later, and some still report severe distress more than ten years after their loss (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Mothers in that same group of parents reported more grief symptoms than fathers when describing the first year after the death (Source: Omega Journal of Death and Dying, 2020). Grief turns out to be an individual, long-term, and highly complex process, which is a big reason I do not treat moving on as the goal (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026).

I have talked about why grief can get harder when the support stops, and I call that stretch the long after. It is a point after the loss of a child that does not get talked about very much, and I think that silence makes it lonelier than it has to be.

Grief also lives in the body, because after a child dies it is something we carry inside us physically, and sometimes the body holds pieces of the story that the mind cannot hold all at once. I have also talked about the sudden, silent end of the active caregiving identity, which leaves love that has nowhere to go.

That brings me to my work, because for years I hosted The Other Side of Potential, a long-running podcast about human development, systems thinking, and the ways we make meaning of our lives and work. After much reflection, I made the decision to transition from it into something more focused and contemplative, centered on a topic that matters deeply to me. That became Beyond the Loss: Life and Identity After a Child Dies, which grew out of the same inquiry.

I want to be careful in how I describe it. The show is not about me processing something in real time, and when people offer condolences or tell me to hang in there, I understand that it is a natural human response to hearing about the loss of a child. My intention is not to seek sympathy on my own behalf, since the space is about understanding something that exists across many lives.

What I care about is how we continue to live, make meaning, and become after loss, and how the death of a child reverberates through siblings, grandparents, extended family, and close relationships. Parents have reached out to tell me that the episodes gave them language and understanding for their own experience, and I am thankful that they trusted me with even a small piece of their story.

Grief and growth can share the same life, which may be the most hopeful thing I can tell you. Many parents report a greater appreciation for life, more personal strength, deeper relationships, and new perspectives after their loss (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Many parents also develop a high level of resilience, which can protect against severe psychological stress, and financial difficulties significantly weaken that resilience, so practical support matters too (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Grief can involve personal development, meaning-making, and change as well as pain (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Becoming someone new after loss is something many people do, and it happens right alongside the pain.

If you are a parent who has lost a child, or you love someone who has, your grief does not need explaining here, and I hope you will feel welcome to listen to Beyond the Loss whenever it feels right. If you are somewhere else in your own becoming, I hope this story reminds you that you can keep growing alongside whatever you carry.

The Question Everyone Asks

After my son died, people came up to talk to me. I know they were concerned about me, and I also remember feeling awkward and disoriented in those moments, because I did not know how to talk to them while I was in such a confused state. The airplane question was another place where this showed up, since it came up for me every time someone asked whether I had a child, and it makes me think about how much sits inside a question that sounds so simple.

Many parents tell me that they do not think of themselves as bereaved parents. The loss is completely real, which makes it interesting that the label does not quite capture the experience. I have come to see identity after loss as something that does not need to be repaired.

Parents who have lived through it describe early grief as treacherous terrain and later grief as flat terrain, a stretch with its own challenges. Those challenges include feeling less connected to their child and feeling pressure to put on an act around other people (Source: Illness, Crisis & Loss, 2025). I make a distinction between the urgency of early grief and the deeper work of integration that unfolds over time, and I think the second part deserves far more attention than it gets.

Time Heals Everything, Allegedly

Plenty of people assume that grief gets easier with time. Among 46 parents whose children had died of cancer, 58 percent reported symptoms of grief, and disturbances showed up even long after the child’s death (Source: Omega Journal of Death and Dying, 2020). The psychological strain that many bereaved parents carry changes very little even years or decades later, and some still report severe distress more than ten years after their loss (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Mothers in that same group of parents reported more grief symptoms than fathers when describing the first year after the death (Source: Omega Journal of Death and Dying, 2020). Grief turns out to be an individual, long-term, and highly complex process, which is a big reason I do not treat moving on as the goal (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026).

I have talked about why grief can get harder when the support stops, and I call that stretch the long after. It is a point after the loss of a child that does not get talked about very much, and I think that silence makes it lonelier than it has to be.

Grief also lives in the body, because after a child dies it is something we carry inside us physically, and sometimes the body holds pieces of the story that the mind cannot hold all at once. I have also talked about the sudden, silent end of the active caregiving identity, which leaves love that has nowhere to go.

Swapping Podcasts, Keeping the Questions

For years I hosted The Other Side of Potential, a long-running podcast about human development, systems thinking, and the ways we make meaning of our lives and work. After much reflection, I made the decision to transition from it into something more focused and contemplative, centered on a topic that matters deeply to me. That became Beyond the Loss: Life and Identity After a Child Dies, which grew out of the same inquiry.

I want to be careful in how I describe it. The show is not about me processing something in real time, and when people offer condolences or tell me to hang in there, I understand that it is a natural human response to hearing about the loss of a child. My intention is not to seek sympathy on my own behalf, since the space is about understanding something that exists across many lives.
What I care about is how we continue to live, make meaning, and become after loss, and how the death of a child reverberates through siblings, grandparents, extended family, and close relationships. Parents have reached out to tell me that the episodes gave them language and understanding for their own experience, and I am thankful that they trusted me with even a small piece of their story.

Grief and growth can share the same life, which may be the most hopeful thing I can tell you. Many parents report a greater appreciation for life, more personal strength, deeper relationships, and new perspectives after their loss (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Many parents also develop a high level of resilience, which can protect against severe psychological stress, and financial difficulties significantly weaken that resilience, so practical support matters too (Source: University of Lucerne, 2026). Becoming someone new after loss is something many people do, and it happens right alongside the pain.

Making Room for Who You Are Becoming

If you are a parent who has lost a child, or you love someone who has, your grief does not need explaining here, and I hope you will feel welcome to listen to Beyond the Loss whenever it feels right. If you are somewhere else in your own becoming, I hope this story reminds you that you can keep growing alongside whatever you carry.