"Never turn down cake" and 4 other lessons I've learned while grieving a coworker

Just a little more than six months ago, my fellow Nationwider Kelly Eskridge died quite suddenly. She was a 40-year-old mom of two young boys – Nolan and Conor. She was a talented writer, had an infectious laugh, gave the world’s most thoughtful gifts, had an eye for jewelry design and had strength, kindness and creativity coursing through her every vein.

I helped hire Kelly as a writer on our creative team in Marketing more than seven years ago. We connected immediately. I still remember the room we sat in when I interviewed her with my colleagues. She had just moved back to Ohio from Michigan and lamented about the challenges of unpacking moving boxes while not being able to keep her son, who had just become mobile, in one spot. Having a two-year-old myself and having also just moved, I related. She was so approachable and talented that we didn’t think twice about offering her a role. For a few months, she was on my colleague’s team but then she was transferred to mine, and I was her leader for the next five years.

We worked together effortlessly. We had a very similar writing voice so editing her work and offering feedback was a breeze. And it helped that we got along so well. Over the years, we took several of those personality tests and often joked we were basically the same person in two volumes – she was “quiet” as a more reserved introvert, I was—and still am—“loud” as a talkative extrovert. But everything else matched up.

As a leader, the relationship you have with members of your team is unique. It’s like being a coworker, parent, coach and therapist all wrapped into one. Over five years, Kelly and I experienced that entire spectrum. We talked about where she wanted her career to go and how she’d get there, discussing her many strengths and where she struggled. She showed me her best self and at times, her personal and professional vulnerabilities. She helped coordinate and throw my baby shower, making a delicious trifle (pictured below) that I can practically still taste, and I’ll never forget when she called me while I was on maternity leave to excitedly tell me about her own new pregnancy. And then later, as she worked through the rockiness of her marriage ending, I listened as she vented frustrations, hugging her when she couldn’t hold back the tears.

I had met her husband, her kids, knew her favorite Etsy sellers and the natural brand of deodorant she preferred. I knew how much she was allocating to her 401K and what kind of omelette she liked for breakfast. She knew my favorite Girl Scout cookie, my pet peeve of colons before bulleted lists and which of my kids had the worst sleeping habits.

We weren’t just coworkers, but we also weren’t family. There’s not a word to articulate that boss-employee relationship and it took me a while to realize that we were…friends.

Grief is a tricky thing. Despite the many books written on the broader subject, “grieving a coworker” isn’t something many people discuss. So I’ve learned a lot in the last six months that I’d like to share.

1.????There is no “organized” way to grieve. When Kelly passed, the news literally took my breath away. And as my mind raced to catch up, I remember all the odd bits I knew about her just floating through my brain, unsure of where to land. It’s like I had categorized all those details in a mental box, to be used in the future as needed. Then, the box got shaken up and dumped and my brain didn’t know what to do with all the contents. At first, I tried to piece it back together and tuck it away. But that was a losing battle. I’ve since learned to let the pieces float because each random fact or memory I had stored away reveals itself to me in an unexpected way and I’ve started looking forward to those moments. Like a little surprise Kelly memory to unwrap when I need it most. ?

2.????Grief does not have a timeline. This may seem like a no-brainer but when you’re in it, you keep thinking “I’ll feel better when ______.” For me, it was “I’ll feel better when I go to the funeral.” And when I didn’t feel better, I thought, “I’ll feel better when I know what caused her death.” Well, that didn’t do it either. It took some time for me to accept that nothing about losing Kelly would ever feel better. But I’m now able to focus a little less on the part that hurt when she died and a little more on the part that delighted in knowing her.

3.????Once a leader, always a leader. When Kelly passed, I wasn’t her manager. I had left the team two years prior. But I immediately felt a sense of leadership obligation to check on my former team (pictured). I was more worried about how they were handling it than I was about myself, especially her new manager who I felt a kinship to as if we had been co-parents. That drive and sense of responsibility was critical because it gave me purpose in processing the death.

4.????We are not meant to grieve alone. I felt a lot of guilt in grieving Kelly because I didn’t feel I had the right to be so sad. I wasn’t her mom or her cousin or her best friend. I was “just her boss” and so I needed to deal with this alone. However, others didn’t let me. From my husband who supports me every time something triggers a new wave of sadness, to my career coach who reminded me that feeling sad means I cared, to my current leader who had never met Kelly but came to her funeral just so I had someone there for me. The network has helped my very personal grief feel much less isolating and it has given me the strength to talk more openly about it.

5.????Never say no to cake. Kelly was obsessed with desserts and small businesses which meant she knew the owner of every local bakery by name and likely had them on speed dial. Shortly before she died, she ordered an obscenely indulgent cake (pictured) from two of her favorite bakers who had collaborated. She texted me a photo of it because she knows I have a sweet tooth too and invited me over for a piece. I declined because I had recently gone gluten-free, and her response was “Poo” which I had immediately tagged with a “heart” reaction. That was our last text exchange. And I will never not regret turning down that cake. It’s made me more aware of the little moments that matter so much and made me determined to say “yes” whenever possible in the future so that I have more of those moments with the people I care about. Plus, who doesn’t love cake?