10 years ago, without fanfare, I received an email from my radiologist that said “scans are perfect.” It had been a year of clean scans since my sudden and unexpected relapse.
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In honor of National Grief Awareness Day, I’m sharing 10 things I wish more people knew about grief.
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But letting go is hard - and oftentimes comes with grief and sadness and guilt. It’s also another loss. Another reminder that life has shifted so profoundly. So instead of letting go, maybe we need to be better at letting it flow.
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There is a difference between showing up and being seen. A difference between sympathizing and empathizing. A difference between being understanding and feeling understood. And sometimes, the only people who get it are those who have been through it.
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The day after Brad died, a friend of mine gathered some old electronics and thrifted glassware and let me take a golf club to the pile in a back alley in Detroit. He did the same thing after the first wedding I attended solo.
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I feel like I’m standing at a fork. To the left is a clear path - a comfortable path. I know what to expect on that path because I’ve taken it before.
To the right is a new path. It’s covered in overgrown brush with thorns and wildflowers and I can’t quite see through it. This path is both exciting and terrifying.
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Fulfillament is a live storytelling event where community leaders & entrepreneurs share their journey toward fulfillment through vocation that challenges them to COME ALIVE!
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The truth is, that diagnosis would have inevitably changed us both. The fears, the surgeries, the emergency room visits, the bad news, bad news, bad news. Had Brad survived, our entire trajectory would have shifted - a rocketship midflight, aiming for the moon instead of mars.
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One of the most uncomfortable parts of loss was not in what was different. It was in what was the same. The same friends, the same house, the same bar, the same walking route, the same music, the same shows, the same job. Brad was dead but everything around me was the same.
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But this year, I once again felt compelled to host. I wanted the music and the warmth and the laughter. I wanted to cook for those I loved in this space I have created for myself. I wanted that same feeling of joy I felt during all those years of hosting.
But with that desire comes the realization that life - and the holidays - are different now. The people, the place, even the food.- they’re all different now. And I have to grieve that loss, too.
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When a person dies, it’s hard to know what to do on big grief dates. Both on anniversaries of positive dates - like weddings and birthdays, as well as anniversaries of the tougher dates - like diagnoses and deaths.
Is a celebration appropriate? Is it better to wallow in bed? Do you involve others or plan a solo day?
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“I miss the old you.”
What they meant was the “fun” me. The “light” me. The “easy going” me. The me that smiled widely and laughed freely and stayed late at the party.
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I feel guilty sharing my joy.
Because I remember how hard it was to see people’s joy early in my own grief. Back when I actually thought I might die from sadness and I couldn’t possibly understand how the rest of the world was getting out of bed, let alone enjoying their lives.
What I needed was for someone to come sit with me in my home because leaving - even for a few hours - required effort I was too exhausted to make. What I needed was someone to come sit with him so I could run to the grocery store or the pharmacy or to just have 10 minutes to sit alone in the car and cry.
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We talk a lot about what not to say to someone grieving. But earlier this week, someone asked me for some helpful things to actually say. Here is a list from the experts…
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After that, we thought we were done stepping in shit. We assumed the universe worked in a way that rewarded good people by avoiding future shit.
But then Brad got cancer (shit) and died (ultimate shit).
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As a widow, did you experience financial instability? Did you receive life insurance? In this episode of Grief Chats, we talk about all things money and widowhood.
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I didn’t understand then why I craved other people’s stories of grief. It felt wrong to want the dark moments. But what I know now is that it wasn’t just about being a voyeur into someone else’s tragedy. It was about holding space for someone else’s pain and then, ultimately, feeling less alone in my own.
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