Grieving the Living: What It Means to Lose Someone Who's Still Here

I knew this one was going to be hard before we even hit record. It’s not often you meet someone who can describe a pain you’ve felt but never fully put into words. When Jodi started talking about grieving her mom — who’s still physically here — something cracked wide open in me. It was familiar. Too familiar.

She talked about caregiving. About watching her mom change in ways she couldn’t stop. And she said something I haven’t stopped thinking about:“How do you explain the person someone was?”That hit me. Because when you love someone who’s no longer fully themselves — whether from illness, brain injury, dementia — you don’t just lose them once. You lose them again and again, every time they forget something or act in a way that reminds you how much has changed.

I held back tears a few times during our conversation with Jodi. This is one of the most honest stories we’ve shared about grieving the living, and it’s going to stay with me for a long time.

Jodi’s Story: From Daughter to Caregiver

In 2016, Jodi was finishing grad school and getting ready to take her boards as a physical therapist. She was also attending her mom’s neurology appointments, which thankfully were just across the street from her classes. At the time, her mom — a former special ed teacher known for her kindness — had just been diagnosed with a gigantic brain aneurysm.

There were only two options:

• Try surgery and hope for the best

• Or risk sudden death at any moment

The family chose surgery. But the clip wouldn’t stay. It had to be adjusted repeatedly. At one point, it stayed in the wrong spot for too long, causing a massive stroke. By the time Jodi’s mom came out of her medically induced coma, everything on her left side was gone. The woman who had raised her — fiercely independent, nurturing, selfless — would never be the same.

Jodi knew from her training as a PT that the road ahead would be long. But she couldn’t have imagined just how heavy it would get.

Her family sold their house in a rush. Her dad moved into a handicap-accessible apartment. At first, they tried keeping her mom at home. But over time, it became clear: she needed more care than they could give.After years of guilt, exhaustion, and trying to do it all, Jodi and her brothers sat their dad down and said the thing that broke all of them:“One of our parents is already gone… we need you to be here.”

Her mom now lives in assisted living. She’s still here. She still talks. She still remembers some things. But she also sends texts asking to borrow a car, even though she can’t walk. Some days she’s lucid. Other days she spirals. And in between, Jodi is left carrying the weight of a role reversal no one prepares you for.

3 Things I Learned About Grieving the Living

• You don’t lose them all at onceGrief like this comes in waves. You’ll see a flicker of who they used to be, and it’ll wreck you. One kind word, one memory recalled, and you’re right back in the heartbreak.

• Guilt is part of the journeyJodi spoke openly about the guilt — over setting boundaries, over making tough calls, over feeling frustrated. “There’s no winning,” she said. And she’s right. You’re doing your best in an impossible situation.

• It’s okay to need helpFrom therapy (shout out to Dana) to cousins to her husband, Jodi built a village around her. Not to “fix” anything. Just to survive it. And sometimes, that’s all you can do.

Why This Story Matters

One of the hardest things about grieving someone who’s still alive is that the world doesn’t see it.There’s no funeral. No obituary. No language for the kind of pain that comes from watching your person slowly disappear — while still needing you to show up, care for them, and keep smiling for your kids.

This is what For The Hayters is all about.Creating space for stories like Jodi’s. The ones that don’t fit in neat little boxes. The ones that exist in the “in-between.” Where grief lives next to gratitude. Where anger and love collide. Where you keep showing up even when your heart feels shattered.

Jodi’s strength doesn’t come from pretending everything’s okay. It comes from her honesty. From telling the truth about what it’s like to parent your parent. To give so much when you barely have anything left. To admit, “This sucks. I miss my mom. And she’s still here.”

If that’s you — if you’re grieving someone who hasn’t passed but has changed — I hope you know you’re not alone.

Listen to the Full Episode

If you haven’t already, this is one of those episodes that deserves your full attention. Grab your headphones, take a walk, cry if you need to — and listen to Jodi’s full story.

🎧 Listen to For The Hayters on Apple Podcasts or Spotify

📺 Watch the full video episode on YouTube

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