We Can’t Escape Death – Nor The Grief and Loss That Comes With It…

Memento Mori

…which translates to “remember that you die”. But it doesn’t mean to stew over your death or be fearful of when your day comes. What it really means is to live life to the fullest, while you still have time. It means that every moment is precious, and that you should treat it as a gift and not take it for granted.

I can expect, and even prepare, for my own death. But it hasn’t been so easy for me to do when it comes to losing family members.

Family has always been really important to me. These are my people in life. They’ve helped me learn and grow and become the person I am today. I have so many great memories with the family members I’ve lost over the past few years.

And these memories seem to rush back into my head, so clearly, as if I’m back in those moments. Reliving my history with them. Which is both good and bad for me.

It started back in 2009, when I lost the woman whom, at the time, I considered to be the most important and influential mother figure in my life. My grandmother (Nan) was the kindest, most loving and most caring woman I’d ever known. She was always extremely supportive and constantly went out of her way to make sure we, as kids, were happy and safe – even if that meant suffering herself or putting herself in some bad situations.

She was the root of my support system. She provided for me, she helped me make important decisions in my teenage years, and even encouraged me to go to college. Soon after I graduated from high school, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. This brought me a lot closer to her. Because I knew I had a limited amount of time left to spend with her. So she became my person…the one I’d hang out with on weekends, or constantly go to lunch or dinner with.

And when I went away to State College to finish my degree, I tried to stay as close as I could. We talked on the phone at least once a week – sometimes two or three times. I was struggling with classes, deadlines, projects and finals, while she struggled with her own battles with cancer.

This gave us both something to share with each other, frequently. To support each other and encourage one another. I can remember her voice so vividly over the phone, when I’d talk about how hard classes were, or how difficult my schedule was.

She’d always say… “keep your nose to the grindstone”

And I knew she was battling with her own issues – chemo treatments, doctor appointments, support groups, etc. Despite her personal struggles, she continued to provide me with support, motivation and encouragement to keep going. I really appreciated that about her.

The cancer was going to take her life at some point in the near future. I should’ve prepared, I should have anticipated and expected it. The cancer was spreading faster than the doctors could treat it. And when it spread to her brain, that was it. We knew she had 6 months, maybe a year if she was lucky.

But despite all the medical opinions, I still wouldn’t believe it. In my mind, she was going to live forever, and we had so many more great memories to make together.

But death had its own plans. When the cancer took her life, it hit me really hard. I spiraled out of control for a few months, partying way too much, to try and drown out all the memories and the pain each one brought. And while this helped for temporary relief, at the core, I wasn’t dealing with the reality that she was gone.

I didn’t want to…I couldn’t face it.

I had to try and forget. This was the first big loss of a family member I’d ever dealt with. And I wasn’t prepared, or strong enough at that point in my life to handle it.

Perhaps this is what drove me to bury my head in work. Because rather than partying and bullshitting my way into a more destructive spiral, I was “using the pain” to be constructive and build a business.

Wow, as I’m writing this the pieces are coming together…

Around the same time that Nan passed away, I’d just started my business. And maybe that’s what I needed in life at the time. Maybe fate had her own plans for me. And gave me the business as a way to help me deal with this loss. Or take my mind off the pain until I was prepared to deal with it.

Was it healthy to turn into a workaholic? Not at all.

While it was more constructive than partying, it was still distracting me from dealing with my internal struggle of accepting and processing the grief and loss. But at the time, that’s all I knew how to do. Just go to work, pay bills, keep focusing on the business.

“You don’t have to deal with this” I’d tell myself. “It will go away with time”.

But it never really went away. It was always there. I just got really good at burying it under mountains of other shit….work, distractions, mindless entertainment, etc.

Then in late 2018, when my grandfather passed away, again the memories with him came rushing back…

The movies we’d used to watch together. Hunting for nightcrawlers in the dark after a summer rain. Waking up early and spending our mornings fishing at the dam. New Year’s Eve and bagging pots and pans outside at the strike of midnight. Playing Atari in his basement. Teaching me how to play card games like poker and rummy.

All of these memories rushing back to me made me realize just how important he was in life. And how much time we spent together when I was a kid. How much I’d learned from him and how he really helped facilitate my growth.

Here comes the pain of grief and loss again. Although this time it’s accompanied by the guilt of not having a closer relationship with him as an adult. Unfortunately I had to distance myself from that side of the family, for personal reasons, but the guilt of that decision still weighed heavy on my heart.

And the questions of “could we have spent more time together?” and “could we have made more memories together?” came rushing into my brain.

But sadly at that time in my life, and in my existing support circle, it wasn’t acceptable to be sad or to properly deal with this new loss. And even though these words were never spoken, I could clearly hear the resounding message of “who cares?” or “shut up and get back to work”. So that’s what I did…

And it worked for a few months, maybe a year, but the thoughts and the memories were still there. Pushing these thoughts and memories down, rather than dealing with them, started to lead to a lot of anger and depression for me. And coupled with compounding difficulties in my personal life and businesses, the weight of the world became a bit too much to carry.

I think this is when reality finally started to set in for me. And rather than thinking everyone is just going to live forever, I began to realize that I needed to expect death and even prepare for it. Because I knew, at that moment in time, that I was going to have to face death again.

What happens when I lose other grandparents, parents, possible friends or other family members? Will I be expected to just “shut up and get back to work”? Or could I actually have the time and space I needed to fully process the grief?

My situation at the time was not ideal nor was I equipped for dealing with this grief and loss. And so I had to make some serious changes in my life before trying to stuff even more things down…because it was literally destroying me.

So that’s what I did.

Now I have the knowledge and the tools to better deal with death. So when my grandmother (Oma) passed away earlier this year, I felt like I’d be much more prepared and actually believed I’d handled it pretty well. But did I really?

Her passing came at a time when I was super busy. So I was working a lot and my focus/attention was divided between multiple projects. My businesses tend to either be super busy or kind of quiet. There’s never any in between. It’s always 100 MPH or 25 MPH. And when she passed away, I’m running at 100 MPH again, which means I don’t really have the time to slow down and go through my process.

But one morning, a few weeks after she had passed, I woke up feeling different. It’s early spring and the windows are open in my home. I hear the bird chirping outside, mowers cutting grass, and that smell of fresh, clean spring air. This instantly triggers me to think of Oma – I’ve always thought of her on mornings like this.

And as I’m preparing to leave for the jobsite the memories are flooding back to me. As the flashbacks are flooding in, I’m starting to realize just how important she was in my life. How much time I’d spent with her as a kid. The important moments where she showed up for me, and all the fun things we did together.

As I’m driving to the jobsite the sun is shining, the sky is a perfect shade of blue, without a cloud in sight, which keeps throwing more and more memories into my consciousness.

But I have to shift my thoughts, my attention, and I have to focus on the job. I cannot deal with this right now, and I cannot let this affect my work. So I do my best to stuff it back down and shift my focus to the task at hand.

I know that I have a busy stretch and days of work in the queue. I’ll be working long days and weekends again for at least another two weeks. But I’m intelligent enough to know that this is here and it’s not going away unless I deal with it.

More importantly, I know the anger and frustration that comes if I don’t deal with this. I just need to find the time to actually deal with it. Throughout the days of work that followed, the memories continued to flood in. And at one point I couldn’t help but to feel her presence. Like I was actually there with her again, as a kid, eating breakfast together in her kitchen.

This particular memory hit me…HARD. It was like I was watching the scene of a movie play out in front of my eyes. OVER and OVER again.

I had to get these thoughts, these memories, out of my head. So I turned to my journal and started writing – spilling the thoughts and memories onto paper as quickly as I could make my hand move.

Here’s a small excerpt from my journal, that I believe really captures one of our important moments together.

On spring mornings like today, I’m not here. I’m there. With you. In your kitchen. Eating breakfast again.

The sun is just starting to rise. Warm spring air lightly blows through the windows. Birds singing in your backyard.

The smell of fresh bread in the air from the bakery down the street. A bowl of cheerios with perfectly thin slices of fresh banana on top.

Your hands smell like oranges, again.

I’m not here, I’m there…

Sitting at your table. Seeing your smile. Hearing the hum of the old, noisy fridge behind me. The calendar on the wall. Sneaking glimpses at the windmill cookies on the shelf behind you.

Your knitted sweater that buttoned up the front. The white shirt beneath. Your maroon pants. How you sat with your legs crossed by the window.

Birds flying in and out of the yard, past the window next to you – inspecting the flowers in your garden, which were just starting to bloom.

How could I forget?

Your fingers interlaced. Twirling your thumbs. Stopping every so often to adjust your glasses.

Your smile was contagious. Your laugh brought me so much joy. You taught me gratitude before I was able to practice it on my own. Humility before I knew what it was.

You showed me strength and grace in all your actions and words.

For “pete sake” how could I ever forget?

“She was a beautiful soul” my Dad says. Yes, she was. But you didn’t know her like I did. You didn’t get to fully experience how beautiful her soul really was. The days, nights, weekends, summers we spent together. You called her “Lilo”. I was lucky enough to call her Oma.

Journaling helped me process some of the thoughts and memories that kept circulating in my head. And it helped me put that motion picture that was playing over and over again into words on paper.

But it didn’t fully remove the pain. It only helped me uncover it, so that I could analyze it, think more deeply about it, and figure out what my next steps were.

I spent the next few days reading and writing more in between work. But I still felt physically tense and could see myself starting to get angry and frustrated again at simple things.

And even though I’m sticking to my normal exercise routine, it’s still not enough.

Inside I had this insatiable urge to just run…as fast and as far as I could (here comes step #3). I hadn’t run for years, due to a knee injury, but that’s what my body was calling for, so that’s what I did.

I ran. As fast as I could, until it felt like my lungs were bleeding. Only then was I able to finally let go.

Running helped me relieve some of the physical pain that I was dealing with. That knot in my chest, the tightness in my shoulders, to drop that weight that was starting to crush me again.

And now that I’ve had time to think, write, and now physically exhaust myself, I’m ready for step #4 – which is talk about it.

I can’t just skip over steps 1-3 and jump right to 4. It just doesn’t work for me. I’ve tried so many times in the past, but despite my best efforts and intentions, I personally cannot get there until I’ve given myself the time and space to work through the prior steps.

I’m not saying this is the right or wrong way to deal with grief and loss, but I know now, after struggling with this for years, that this is what works for me.

I have a system that works, that I can rely on, that I can go back to when I need it. Because death will come again in my future. So I need to anticipate and even prepare for it.

I can’t just shrug off death and say “don’t worry about it, just get back to work/life/etc”. These are my people, and I happen to care about the people in my life. And I realize and appreciate the things they’ve done for me.

Some people are colder, more callus, better prepared, or maybe just don’t care about anyone but themselves. I’m not saying that is right or wrong, it’s just not me.

For me, this is the system that works. These are the steps I’ve found I need to take in order to properly deal with death and the loss of a family member, and move on in life without anger, frustration, etc.

My system may not be right, and certainly not perfect, but it’s what I’ve found works for me.

If you’re struggling with death and the loss of friends/family members in your life, maybe this will help guide you to finding your own system, your own process, of dealing with it in a healthy manner.

And if you have not yet had to deal with death and the loss of a family member, I think it’s important that you try your best to prepare yourself. No one will ever escape death. It’s part of the cycle of life.

The real question you need to ask yourself is what will you do when you’re faced with the grief and loss that the death of a loved one can bring? Are you going to let it turn you cold and bitter to the rest of the world? Or are you going to deal with it, process it, in a healthy manner, that lets you move forward with peace, gratitude, and even joy?

These questions I cannot answer for you, but I have answered them for myself.

I hope you’ve found this info helpful and can use it as a guide to dealing with death, grief and loss in your life.

As always, take what you need and leave the rest. Until next time…