Paying Tribute: Reflections of Grief and My Grandmother

At the beginning of 2025, my world was shaken to its very core with the passing of my beloved grandmother. When my mom called with the news, I could feel my heart shattering piece by piece. The pain was unlike anything I had ever known—at times, even breathing felt difficult. I had to be honest with myself and those around me, acknowledging that I wasn’t okay, allowing myself to ride the waves of grief as they came.

Anyone who knew her could tell you she was pure joy, lighting up every room she entered. No matter your age—six or 60—she had a way of making you feel truly seen, valued, and deeply loved. For years, her “family cookouts” were more than just gatherings; they became open-door celebrations for friends, family, neighbors, and anyone in the Valentine's community. She was a beacon, and folks came from near and far to be in community with her and with one another.?

There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. My love for her runs deep and will forever remain. Whenever she called, I came—especially during the years I lived out of state. Every trip to RVA included a stop to see her and my grandfather. Her door and her heart were always open, no matter how late I arrived. She loved joining me on rides, always saying, “My bag will be at the door, grandson.” Our shared moments were countless and precious. Often, I just wanted to sit by her side and listen. Her wisdom seemed endless, and her memory was a marvel.

As her eldest grandchild, I cherished the special bond we shared. But the truth is, she had an extraordinary gift for making each of her children and grandchildren feel uniquely loved. She held enough love in her heart for us all. Losing her still feels unreal, and there are times when grief overwhelms me. We haven’t just lost a mother, a wife, a sister, or a friend—we’ve lost the matriarch of our family.

In this painful season, I’ve been learning to navigate the delicate space between grief and gratitude with grace and faith. Despite the heartache, I find some comfort in God’s reminder:

God is God and God makes no mistakes. He is an errorless Emmanuel— He is always with us. Life is a borrowed window of time. a bestowed gift, and our goal is to finish our journey as faithful servants. My grandmother ran her race well. She lived a rich 87 years filled with faith, life, love, resilience, strength, softness, care, compassion, and infectious laughter. She fiercely loved the Lord, and now… her rest is her reward. That is God’s promise—and our peace.

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28

So, Lord, I trust You with my heavy heart, my sorrow, my tears, and my memories. You are a big God, and you have proved you can handle all of my big feelings. Although you haven’t always saved me from my pain, Thank You for meeting me in my pain and surrounding me with the joy of her life. Thank You for the comfort of song and the peace found in the hymn, “Well, Well, Well… [with my soul]" - by MavHouse Music.

Grandma, we love you. This loss has shaken the foundation of our family, but we know you ran your race with grace and strength. As our grandfather says, "may her work speak for her." It certainly did grandmother. You’ve taught us so much, and we will honor your memory in how we live, love, and keep the faith you instilled in us.

Rest in Heaven. Rest in Power. REST.

We carry you in our hearts, our laughter, and our lives. You are missed beyond measure, but your legacy lives on through all of us.

This journey of grief and gratitude will take time, and I humbly ask that you keep my family and me in your prayers. I am deeply thankful for the outpouring of love and support that surrounds us.?

To my fiancée—thank you for cutting your trip short to be by my side and for holding me compassion, care, and attentiveness. I love you. To my sons—your hugs, smiles, and presence have been my anchor. To my family, fraternity brothers, broadies, friends, and colleagues, both near and far—your calls, texts, visits, and simple offers of “How can we help” or “What do you need?” have reminded me of the strength of community. You are my village, and I will always be grateful.

To those walking through grief: let your people in. Do not let sorrow consume you like a fire within. I’ve had to learn—and relearn—this lesson as I reflect on masculinity, partnership, and fatherhood.

Professionally, I’ve also learned to embrace vulnerability. Letting go of the fear that sharing my grief would change how I was viewed in the workplace was a challenge, but opening up has only deepened the humanity and connection among my colleagues. As we prepared for professional staff training and the start of the second half of the academic year, I resisted the idea of burdening others with tasks from my long to-do list. I’ve learned from own life reflections that I used to auto default to “normalized numbness” when dealing with grief or traumatic events. I thought doing so “made me stronger.” ?It was not only incorrect mindset, it was a dangerously unhealthy one. A mentor’s wise words reminded me: “The work will be there… moments and memories may not always be.”

I found relief and strength in leaning on my community. Colleagues offering meals or asking, “What can I take off your desk?” made a difference. When friends sincerely checked in with, “Are you okay—really okay?” it wasn’t performative; it was genuine care. It allowed me to break free from the reflexive, “I’m okay” and embrace the support I needed. I’m learning that grief and gratitude are not solitary journeys—they are interconnected and best traveled with the grace, support, and compassion of others.

We know all too well there are times where “life is lifing.” Whether as friends, loved ones, colleagues, or just good-hearted humans, let’s commit to practicing compassion daily, both in offering and receiving it. Grief is a journey, and journeys are made lighter when shared with a community.

Here are some learned healthy habits and reminders for navigating grief and traumatic events, both personally and professionally:

? It's Grace and Grief, not Grace and Guilt. You have to give yourself grace, foremost and perhaps often with traumatic experiences. Grief is unpredictable and can have surprising effects. An important aspect that I had to be reminded of is that I am human; even in moments when I feel I need to be superhuman. It was interesting how difficult it was to not feel guilty for delegating tasks or even taking time away from work. I was telling myself "This is too critical a time at work for me to take this much time off work." Chances are it will always be a "critical time" at work. However, it's vital we take critical care of ourselves and one another. Emotions and traumatic events will impact us in different ways and at different times in our lives. Grief can be momentary or even layered as a complex and connected structure of emotions. To give myself grace and space was giving myself to be human and giving myself space to feel.

? Make separate lists for home and work tasks and identify people who can help or take on responsibilities. I realized some of my stress stimulated from how many to do tasks that were swimming around in my head. I'm traditionally not a list-maker but when I heeded the advice of my partner to employ this strategy, it felt like letting air of the balloon. I felt myself breathing much better as the days progressed that I wasn't holding the unorganized long list of tasks in my head, and I also felt a calmness in my heart.

? Lean into your emotions, try to avoid burying yourself in them. Avoiding or drowning them in busyness, or falling into numbness, is not sustainable. Journaling can help process feelings, and a grief playlist might bring comfort.

? Reach out to HR or your supervisor to learn about available support. I didn’t realize bereavement leave was an option and initially was prepared to use vacation days for my time away. There could be additional support such as counseling, support groups, etc.?

? Capacity Check - Be honest with yourself about your needs. Ensure you have adequate time to grieve. I didn’t want to bury my grandmother on Sunday and return to the office making copies at the printer on Monday. Emotions are just like people... they need to breathe. I realized I not only need to take immediate time away from work and seek help in things I needed to get addressed, but I will practice giving myself in the future to utilize spaces with my supervisor to take time as needed and as I am able to. For some people, engaging their grief journey may not start with the traumatic event happens but it could be moments, days, or even years after. Whenever it starts, it's important to inventory your needs and seek available resources and support.

? Take it day by day, moment by moment. Some days, rest may be all you need; other times, a brief return to work may bring a sense of normalcy and connection.

Remember: grief is hard, but you don’t have to walk through it alone. It's important to remember that is not a race to complete or compete in, but rather a journey to lean into and learn from.