Balancing work and grief
There is a surreal quality to working in a global pandemic. On the one hand, we’re all dealing with the fear and uncertainty of a disease that has affected 618 million people worldwide. On the other hand, we need to keep moving forward. Despite the probabilities, it was not COVID that interrupted my routine this month.
Earlier this year, I learned that my aunt had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. She got chemo treatments for a few months to slow the progression. There was never going to be a cure, but it was an effort to get more time. For a while, it worked, but a few weeks ago, they stopped the treatments to focus on managing her pain. It was always going to end like this.
As I type this, I am sitting in my aunt’s living room, balancing meetings and deadlines with the times she is awake for me to sit by her bedside, stroke her hair, share silly memories in the time we have. There are so many layers of emotion. The past week has been a constant reunion as other aunts, uncles, cousins, and family friends cycle in to keep her company. I have laughed more than I have cried, held and been held tightly, and emptied a few bottles of wine. Although she doesn’t talk much, she has repeated several times, “I am so lucky,” as she looks around at the people who love her. I am making her feel loved by being here. My presence gives her comfort, and that is worth everything.
Grief is gratitude. We would not mourn those we love if we were not also celebrating how much they mean to us. My aunt helped shaped my life, the way I see myself, and the way I believe in myself. All of which comes full circle back to how I show up for others, in life and at work.
None of this precious time would have been possible if my company was not flexible about where I could work from and how I could work. Perhaps to distract myself, I started thinking about the conditions that made it possible for me to be here:
- If I had to work in an office, I wouldn’t have this time with my aunt.
- If my hours weren’t flexible, I wouldn’t have this time with my aunt.
- If I weren’t paid fairly, I wouldn’t have this time with my aunt.
- If I weren’t trusted, I wouldn’t have this time with my aunt.
- If I weren’t supported, I wouldn’t have this time with my aunt.
Or, if I flipped it, none of the work I did this week would have happened if I’d been forced to choose between that and my family. And I did some very valuable work.
As more companies try to revert to a “normal” way of working, I wonder if they understand that they will lose their most talented team members. Over 6.5 million people have died from COVID, leaving behind families that are grieving and raw to the core from holding it together for the past 2.5 years. Over 600,000 more people will die this year from cancer in the United States. There is nothing normal about that. Nor is there anything normal about holding back tears or hiding the waves of emotions that come up in times like this.
Grief is normal. It is more universal than anything we’ll ever do for work.
The companies trying to go backwards are fighting against the natural force of grief at a global scale. I hope they’ll realize there’s a better way because more people will quit than put up with being exposed to danger or kept away from their families. We create our society with each decision we make. We can evolve how we work to be better.
I am holding layers of grief, remembrance, and gratitude as I work through this time with my family. The way my company supports me is how everyone should be treated: with respect and compassion. With so many people grieving, this has to be the baseline for how people are treated as employees. May we all be treated with dignity in these challenging times.
My aunt is a lifelong caretaker. She always makes sure that people around her feel loved and supported. If you’re inspired to donate in her honor, Noora Health’s mission is closely aligned with this ethos. They provide high-impact training to increase access to healthcare around the world. As I’ve witnessed my family coming together to take care of my aunt, I have learned how important these skills are in the most critical moments.
