Seven months ago, my dad died.
Those of us closest to him knew he was slowing down and feeling more tired than usual, but we didn’t know he was suffering from an aggressive form of leukemia until it was too late to do anything about it.
As he lay unconscious on a ventilator in the hospital in his final days, we didn’t know if he knew he was as sick as he turned out to be. We didn’t know if he chose not to let on about it because his number one concern was taking care of my mother who has Parkinson’s. He didn’t want anything to interfere with providing for her needs.
Truth be told, we didn’t know a lot of things.
In hindsight, we’ve been able to put together some of the pieces to the puzzle that made up the final months of my dad’s life.
My sister in law recalls noticing how much more tired he was over the summer.
My mom remembers him mentioning body pain more often.
When I watch videos I took of him at our vacation home in August, I hear something in his voice I didn’t catch at the time but now recognize as something ominous in light of what happened only a few short months later.
Dad was stoic. He kept his feelings and concerns well-hidden. He didn’t want anyone making a fuss about him. That included treating his cancer and making end of life decisions.
Nothing fancy and no heroics.
Once the official diagnosis came in, he went downhill quickly. Less than two weeks after he entered the hospital, he was gone. We honored his wishes and opted not to try to save him. Not an easy decision, no matter how many angles you look at it.
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Grief isn’t something we talk about much in professional settings, or in any business setting, really. It’s certainly not an emotion we address during board meetings or on conference calls. The pace of business and cultural expectations, whether spoken or not, dictate that leaders put on our leadership hats and keep marching forward regardless of what’s going on behind the scenes. There’s work to be done and remember, there’s no crying in baseball.
But what price are we paying for not addressing our grief and more importantly, giving ourselves the time and space to process it?
How many people right now are suffering silently because they are grieving and don’t know what to do, who to turn to, or how to make it through the day without numbing out on drugs, alcohol, porn, Doritos, endless social scrolling, 80 hour work weeks?
I’ve experienced grief more than once in my life. Every time I’ve moved. The end of my marriage. Becoming an empty nester. Various business ventures that didn’t work out.
The pandemic. If the last two years have taught us anything, it’s that all of us are in one state of grief or another. For millions, grief has turned into a house guest that never leaves, demanding a constant supply of snacks and cold beer.
I’m all too familiar with this house guest. The shock of losing my dad coupled with all the responsibilities that come with the death of a loved one have consumed me since late November 2021. Practically overnight my entire life changed. I had to make several big decisions -- fast -- including not returning to my home on the west coast so I could help take care of my mom on the east coast.
The weeks following dad’s death were a whirlwind of phone calls, funeral plans, visits from friends and family with the holidays smack dab in the center of it all. With everything that was going on, I didn’t have the time or the energy to grieve. It wasn’t until late January 2022 when the enormity of what happened hit me.
And it punched me down so hard, I could barely breathe.
Except for continuing to publish my podcast, everything related to my business stopped. I found myself navigating a new role as full time caregiver to my mom. Nevermind that doing that had nothing to do with any of the countless pages of manifestation work I’ve been doing for years related to my goals and what my ideal life looks like. Leadership is about making the right decision at the right time. Doing the best we can given the circumstances. We don’t always get it right. And things don’t always work out the way you imagined they would.
But talk to anyone who takes their work, their families, their communities and their country seriously and you will find someone who is doing their best. It’s easy to look back and play the coulda-shoulda-woulda card. But that doesn’t help. Better to address what was as it was and move ahead accordingly.
This is part of the grieving process, too.
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Losing my dad is by far the most intense grief I’ve experienced. Nothing could have prepared me for it. No book or podcast or course could have taught me about what I would feel when grief came knocking at my door and moved in for I can’t possibly predict how long.
Even as time passes and the initial sting subsides, grief is always lurking in the emotional shadows, ready to take center stage and leave me sobbing in a puddle of tears because I just saw a car commercial featuring cute golden retriever puppies which were dad’s favorite breed.
Granting ourselves the space -- and the grace -- to feel grief is more than half the battle. If we could learn how to talk about it without feeling ashamed or weak, think of how much better more of us would do in all facets of our lives. If we could add grieving to the collective cultural conversation, think of how much faster our country would heal.
I don’t fight the tears when they come. I don’t act as if my dad didn’t die. With every tear I cry I’m processing what happened so that I can make space for what is and what can be. It’s okay to be sad, and angry. Even enraged. The point is to make room for these emotions.
Even as stubborn as grief can be, it, too, will eventually tire of hanging around. You can only eat so much popcorn and drink so many microbrews before you realize you’re ready for a change.
Before you want to throw open the curtains and let the light come pouring in.
Feel that sunshine of hope and possibility warm and comforting on your face.
