Planning

As I scroll through social media feeds, I often screen shot things I think are interesting and inspiring. The other day, I was doing a photo backup and came across this beautiful picture of a series of tweets. I was once again struck by what a gift this gentleman’s mom had provided to him. A reminder to go even more in depth with my own plans.

Say goodbye

Letting you in further to my obsession with Hamilton: one scene that sits with me is when George Washington is dictating his goodbye letter. In the song he states he’s going to “teach them how to say goodbye”. 

It strikes me that this is something we’re not taught. For retirements in our professional lives, there isn’t a template to teach us the best way to say goodbye to the path we’ve been on, nor how to handle the grief of those around us who may have a tough time with the news. If we’re diagnosed with a life-limiting illness that grants us some time for goodbyes, there is certainly no Cole’s notes on the best way to approach bidding adieu to our relationships.

This all said, I recently saw something on LinkedIn which struck me profoundly and could help provide a cheat sheet of sorts: a professional goodbye for someone who was dying. 

Perhaps you saw it too? 

In the post the writer indicates they are dying of a stage four cancer. They give a brief summary of their journey, contemplate their successes and failures, impart some knowledge, give thanks for what they learned from their professional contacts, and provide a sense of closure to those who they’ve been linked with. And they provided a timeline of when they would close their account. 

It was a beautiful post and extremely well done - clear, impassioned, and thoughtful. I’ve saved a screen shot to my phone in hopes that it can be a template for me to follow some day. I think about it often: what would I say to my peers and contacts in this same situation? 

Today, I’m grateful that individual chose to ‘teach us how to say goodbye’. They will not see this post, but I hope they know their goodbye has inspired and moved individuals they never even met.

GriefWatch (2)

Like many others, the pandemic made me a fan of a few odd things… like glass blowing. Not actually doing it myself, of course- but the armchair kind. I’ve binged all the possible episodes of Blown Away on Netflix (completing season three earlier this week), and the themes of death, grief, and fear of death are prevalent throughout. 

If you’re uncomfortable with grief, I’d recommend watching season three, if only to bear witness to the pain of others. Sit with how uneasy it makes you feel and think about the why. Notice the reactions of others and try to assess how those reactions land with those who are sharing their grief. And enjoy the gorgeous works of art that these individuals are choosing to make in the midst of their pain. 

A meme

Want to try a death meditation? It’s not as daunting as you may think… and I’ve just found my official new favourite one: check this post out: https://www.instagram.com/p/CgrsL2PrZAj/?igshid=MDJmNzVkMjY=

Read it in the order that it has been written in, and then read it chronologically, and then… take a moment to think about minute one. 

Would you be at peace? Why or why not? 

Your story

Continuing on my Hamilton high (diatribe).

In the song The World Was Wide Enough, Hamilton says "Legacy, what is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see."

And in the following song which ends the musical production, the repeating refrain is "Who tells your story?" and Eliza Hamilton tells the audience that she puts herself back in the narrative...

For a course I am taking, I recently was gifted the time to write my own obituary. It was such a difficult but freeing task... and it had me asking: 

What seeds have you planted? 

Who will tell your story? 

Are you an active participant in your narrative? 

Have you asked these same questions? Should you? 

Unimaginable

This past Saturday, I was in Ottawa and treated my daughter to a matinee performance of Hamilton. It was phenomenal. 

(and those were the smiles BEFORE the production even started!) 

Watching the production live (as opposed to the Disney+ version) reminded me that so much of the spectacular art we consume daily is about death. Think about Shakespeare's plays, Hollywood blockbusters, books that top the New York Times best sellers list... doesn't it seem like the most popular, the most resonant art centralizes around the theme of death?

But why? 

Simply put, I think it is because art is aspirational. And society sucks at death. Full stop. 

In the musical Hamilton, so many songs and scenes centre on death, but in one song, I was particularly hit by the aspiration for compassion that the play exudes.

In the song It's Quiet Uptown, after Alexander Hamilton's son dies, the cast sings "have pity on him, he's working through the unimaginable". 

Truly, I long for a world where we could give the space this song requests to anyone going through grief. Imagine living in a world where we can remind one another to go gently on each other (and ourselves) in times of grief? 

What grace.

Food for thought

If you are in a people-serving profession, I think it is incredibly important that you are constantly pushing outside of your own bubble to understand the perspectives of people around you, people you'll interact with, and frankly, people you may never even meet. 

Last night, one of my best friends sent me an Instagram video with a perspective on grief that I had not considered. I am so glad she did. If you have a chance, please visit the account by @alokvmenon and watch this clip. 

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CfzPL2IIiyo/?igshid=MDJmNzVkMjY=

The fresh perspective that kind of blew my mind (in a good way): 

"I feel undone by the irrevocable fact that the people that we love die. 

And that society is structured in a way that refuses to talk about it. 

It's easier to play pretend: that we are immortal, that we are proud, that we aren't lonely. 

I believe that unprocessed grief is the fuel of homophobia and transphobia. 

Behind every bigot is a broken heart. 

Because we have no spaces to grieve, and be witnessed in our pain, we take it out on ourselves and one another." 

I wonder if creating a more death positive and grief accepting society could help heal us from the horrors of racism, colonialism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, and ageism... 

And bringing it closer to home, if we approached our workplaces by acknowledging that every single client/patient/donor that we serve in our industry may have a broken heart, would that help us to better understand their desired purpose and be more effective in our roles? I think it would certainly help us check ourselves at the door. 

What do you think?