Even in grief, we must learn to let go. Not of the love for our people (that will always remain). But the previous version of our life. The previous version of what we thought our life would look like.
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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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Why aren’t doctors direct with us when it comes to a terminal diagnosis? Without a realistic view of the situation, patients and families don’t have a fair shot at prioritizing what matters most in the end.
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When Brad first died, self-love involved alcohol and weed. I’m not proud of it, but it felt like the only way I could love myself was by numbing my feelings.
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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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Navigating a relationship in the wake of a profound loss is complicated. It takes an immense amount of courage to put yourself out there.
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I'm aware it’s a sneaky cancer that doesn’t let itself known until it’s too late. I'm aware that the “lucky” ones who discover it early, usually discover it on accident. I'm aware it has the ability to - in an instant - swoop in and steal the life of the person you love most in the world, taking your life along with it.
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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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You may feel pressure from well-intentioned people to “get in the spirit,” but oftentimes those people would rather see you fake a smile than feel the truth.
Pull out the box of ornaments…or don’t. Sing the carols…or don’t. Get in the spirit…or don’t.
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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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Reliving the trauma of a cancer diagnosis, the treatment, and the subsequent death is unbearably difficult. But sometimes, it feels harder to relive those precious moments of our life before.
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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.
Several weeks ago, I entered a dream contest through Airbnb for the opportunity to live nomadically in Airbnbs around the world for a year. When you enter these types of things, you never expect to hear back. You give it your best shot, imagine winning only for a few seconds, and then continue on with your life. But I did hear back.
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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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