Last Wednesday afternoon, I received a phone call with the shocking news that a dear friend and colleague had died unexpectedly. He was out of town with his beloved wife when he collapsed on the stairs at a museum, dying instantly of a massive heart attack.
The days since receiving this brutal news have been full of emotions, some of them quite overwhelming. Though I’ve worked closely with death for many years now, this loss is different. Because it’s personal.
As therapists who feel called to end-of-life work, we are unfortunately not exempt from personal losses. We will likely lose parents. We will likely lose friends and colleagues. We might lose spouses, even children. In that regard, we are no different from any other person on the planet.
But sometimes others have the mistaken notion that our proximity to death and dying confers upon us a special wisdom or capacity for making sense of loss, and coping with it. I am here to tell you that my years of hospice experience are not a comfort to me now. In short, I am heart broken.
What do we do to help ourselves when loss is personal? I confess I am writing this article as a way to have a little talk with myself. Because the truth is that I don’t have solid answers here. I am simply sitting with my sadness and hoping to catch the ripcord of some simple ideas to help myself.
So here they are, my ideas for getting through the coming days.
1. Take time off work if you can. Yes, you may have to inconvenience or disappoint others. You may have to forego income. In short, you will be taking yourself out of circulation for a few hours, days or weeks. But I believe that taking such time is necessary, especially if your job involves taking care of other people. After a big loss, your job really needs to be taking care of your SELF. It’s that thing about the oxygen mask on an airplane. We can’t be fully present to the pain of others when we are mired in our own hurt. So step away for a little while. Or get creative and diversify your work portfolio to let in some light.
2. Streamline your caretaking. Related to the above, but here I’m talking about nonprofessional caretaking roles. Most of us care for others on multiple fronts. And some of that caretaking must go on, regardless of how we are feeling. Children and pets must be fed. But is there anything you can let go of, at least for a little while? Think about the elective caretaking you do, and see if you can live with some slack.
3. Explore professional support. If you work with a hospice agency, they may have bereavement services that are available to you. Ask about these, and take advantage of them. Some churches also provide this kind of support. Whether you find free services, or you have to pay for them, a safe place to process loss is a worthy investment in your mental health.
4. Reach out to others who share your pain. In my case, I am lucky that there is a large community of people who are grieving the same loss. A few of us gathered for a Reiki share on Tuesday to honor our deceased colleague. We cried a lot. But we also held one another, and allowed ourselves to be held. In addition to the formal Memorial service for our friend, these smaller circles of support feel very important right now.
5. Ramp up your self-care. I am getting a haircut today. And then I am getting a massage. I had not done the latter for myself in a very long time. I am trying to pay extra attention to basic things like sleep, food and hydration. Grief is hard work. Hard work requires extra rest. It is absolutely okay to treat ourselves with the same tenderness that we offer to others.
6. Create meaningful ways to honor the loss. This will look different, depending on your style and your relationship to the person you’re grieving. In my case, I am thinking about the work that I shared with my colleague, and how I might preserve this work in some form. A photo hung on the wall, a tree planted outside a window, a gift to yourself or to others, a dedicated day of the week to remember, a framed quotation over your desk . . . the possibilities are endless.
7. Keep your eyes and heart open to moments of beauty and joy, even in the midst of sadness. These juxtapositions, to me, are the heart of being alive.
In honor of my friend, I wish you peace. And I wish the same for me.
Share
3
About cindyandsusan
Cindy and Susan are massage therapists specializing in end-of-life massage. They co-created Final Touch Training and love offering this specialized training to others. More info available at FinalTouchTraining.com