Working Through Grief

After losing my Mother in 2021, I thought I knew grief.

It was a large and uncomfortable mass to swallow. It hurt going down. At times I couldn’t breathe, and would have to stop everything and just lean into the pain. But the more tears I shed, and days that passed, the mass got smaller and more manageable. It now rests as a lump behind my heart. I can’t always predict when it will remind me of its presence, but I’m familiar with the sharp ache to my heart, the sprawling sensation that grips my lungs, and the tears that burn close to the surface. My physical and emotional reactions are acute, and typically go unnoticed by others.

But when my Father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly 18 months later, it was like being asked to swallow a country. It doesn’t even make sense.

My Father was the most influential person in my life, and an integral part of our daily lives. His presence cannot be quantified. I hear his logical but skeptical voice in my head. I see his smile in my son’s face. There are tangible reminders of him all around our house. His omnipresence has left a residue over every aspect of my life. The hard parts can’t be compartmentalized. It’s all hard.

Once you’ve lost both of your parents, you also lose whatever innocence you were holding on to. The unconditional love of my parents is a privilege that I didn’t know I was standing on. The feeling of home, our cherished memories and traditions, their unequivocal love for me, my husband and children… it feels as though the very foundation I built my life on is disintegrating from right under me. The shared experiences, values, and primal ties to my lineage are now delicate bubbles blowing in the wind all around me. The more I try to catch, the higher I float.

Paradoxically, I am grounded by the many practical matters that I’m left to deal with. The estate. Their house. Their things. It’s a tedious and abominable process. As if money and worldly possessions are even important right now.

Feeling vulnerable and untethered - while also burdened by the reality of my responsibilities and duties - are opposite gravitational pulls. The result is a swirl of ugly and incommunicable thoughts, making it difficult to focus and exhausting to navigate.

The siren song of returning to work

I have always loved to work. My job is a pillar of my identity, giving me purpose and satisfaction, as well as a community to serve.

After my Mom passed, I saw going back to work as a life raft. A familiar and safe place that offered me reprieve from my emotional instability.

But after my Dad’s passing, I can feel my relationship to work changing. I can’t give myself to work while wrestling with larger questions about the purpose of life and the reality of mortality. I’m realizing that - for perhaps the first time - there are more things in life worth striving for beyond professional success and financial comfort.

Don’t get me wrong, I am blessed to already be leading a full life. I am loved. I experience joy and pleasure. I feel connected and supported by many friends, family and coworkers. All of my basic needs are met. The problem is that I don’t honor and respect the other facets of my life as much as I should. I am productive at work to the detriment of everything else.

Enter: boundaries

I have always intellectually understood the benefit of delegating, but it’s been more challenging in practice. My mind still held space for many things that I didn’t need to be involved in. I now recognize the toll I’ve paid for that. It’s restricted my own mental capacity and ability to be present and forward thinking, while also limiting the growth and elevation of my team.

Now that my heart is ready for change, here are a few new boundaries I’m practicing:

1. Re-think what is truly urgent, and my own “SLA” for responding after hours. Can it wait until tomorrow? Hint: most things can.
2. Be approachable, not indiscriminately available. I do not need to attend every meeting or participate in every conversation.
3. Don’t accept other people’s monkeys (see Management Time: Who’s Got the Monkey?). Trust and empower my team to handle it - don’t let them rely on me.
4. Leave work at work, so that I can give my time, energy and attention to other areas of my life. Because the only people who will remember all the hours I work late are my kids.

I'd like to extend a big thank you to all those who have been supportive of this journey for me--my boss, my coworkers, my family and friends. Losing both parents is not a club that I ever wanted to be a part of, but I'm grateful for the personal and professional growth that I might be able to learn from it.