Skip to main content

Opening wounds and loving the living

A coworker passed away this past Friday. It was sudden and shocking. He and his wife both worked at Permobil and so we all felt the pain deeply. Not just for the loss of the coworker, but for his wife. Our company is a close one. When one hurts, we all hurt. We show up for each other.

When the news broke that Catherine had died, it wasn't 20 minutes later that coworkers started showing up at my house. They have loved me and cared for me and watched me cry and watched me yell and then laugh and then get really drunk. They were part of the light in our darkest hour. They hauled off trash and brought food and booze and more food and more booze. They have offered their offices when I came back if I ever needed space. They have hugged me and asked what I needed. They have helped me get photos and videos off Catherine's iPhone. My coworkers have made my work a safe place. A happy place.

When I got the news of the passing of my coworker, my thoughts went straight to his wife. I'm not ready to visit another grieving family. I'm still grieving myself and some days I'm good to get out of bed and get dressed. It feels selfish but I'm of no use to anyone in the same position as myself. While I don't know her grief, I do know grief. It feels helpless being a person who wants to help but can't. I did what I could and made sure she got my number. She called last night and we chatted for a bit. About how she was feeling, things to come, and other stuff that isn't included in the non-existent guidebook for when someone suddenly dies. All the stuff that no one told me. As painful as the conversation was, it was nice to feel like a helper.

Up until yesterday I was remiss to reach out to parents who had lost a child. I felt like I was opening their wounds all over again. Knowing my own pain, I didn't want to make someone else feel like me by reliving their pain. But after speaking with my coworker, I realized why these women have made themselves available to me. Because they know. Because they went through it. They get my pain and while I know it hurts to talk about it, it has to be a bit cathartic.

So when my coworker comes back to work, she will be loved. And hugged. And supported. We grieve for the one that died but we have to remember to love the living. They are the ones that need it. The deceased don't know how we feel after they die. They are in a better place. We have to focus on the ones that are left to go on. They need the love and light and support. I'm blessed that I work with people that love the living. And when my coworker comes back, she will be just as loved.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Harsh Truth

In thirteen days, it will mark 4 years since Catherine died. How it can seem like it happened both yesterday and a lifetime ago continues to puzzle me. Four years later and I still struggle with accepting that it wasn’t my fault and that while I want to believe that I could save her, I’ve learned that I’m just not that powerful.  With this terrible milestone approaching, I sit here angry and doing everything in my power to not rage at parents that are spitting in the face of science and the experts that are desperately trying to save lives all because they believe they know what is best for their child. Sure, as parents we believe we know what is right for our children but we also rely on doctors, scientists, and research to ensure we are making the right decision. We are currently faced with a pandemic that went from affecting the older population and those with underlying health conditions a year ago to now affecting our children. I still see the same people saying that it is jus...

The Chain

One of Catherine's favorite songs was "The Chain" by Ingrid Michaelson. I printed off the music for the piano and I learned to play it and then she would sing. Her voice always amazed me. At some point she taught herself the piano part and recorded herself singing and playing that lovely song. I didn't find the video until after she died. I've watched it numerous times. Since her death, things that used to bring me joy, don't bring me joy anymore. I'm not able to read for pleasure.  Music is a hard one too. For those of you that don't know, I play the piano and flute. We played together a lot. Catherine and I bonded over music. We shared our favorite songs. Listening to the radio is scary because I'm fearful that one of our songs will play. So I listen to NPR instead. When the detective questioned us about Catherine that morning, he did it in the dining room while I was surrounded by all my sewing stuff. So now the idea of sewing brings me dread....

Welcome to Grief

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything on my blog. Nothing really seemed important enough to take the time to sit and write. But in light of recent events, I’m faced with grief and the reality of it, all over again. If you aren’t familiar with my story, I suggest you start at the beginning of this blog. I’m not an expert on grief but I’m way too familiar with it. The definition of grief varies but Merriam – Webster defines it as (a) deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement; (b) a cause of such suffering. Notice how it isn’t specific to death? That’s because grief is something we experience when we lose someone or something. I’ve noticed a wide variety of emotions and posts on social media in the last few weeks. When this COVID-19 thing started, I don’t think any of us were prepared for what was to come. With more numbers coming out regarding positive cases and unfortunate deaths, as well as mixed messages regarding social distancing and not q...