Grief to Growth: Navigating Loss & Purpose
Then
Thirty-four years ago, I was a college junior about to start my finals for the semester. I was told I needed to make a phone call home and found my then-boyfriend (now husband) in a room waiting for me. When I reached my mom, she told me that my dad had died suddenly of a heart attack. I see this moment in my life as a major marker of before and after. It is the dividing line between when our lives were as they should be and when we had to rewrite our future.
My dad was Roger Salisbury, the last of 7 children born in North Dakota. He was a teacher, published author, city councilman, and loving husband. He would bring my mom a cup of coffee each morning and write me long handwritten letters in college detailing the status of his garden. He baked enormous chocolate chip cookies and mailed them to me in coffee cans. He had a quick temper, but disagreements ended quickly with a hug. He bought me my first bouquet and knew how to make me feel loved.
Those early years were very difficult for all of us – especially my mom. I don’t recall any discussion of grief, grief support groups, or any other type of acknowledgment of the enormity of this loss. It wasn’t that people were insensitive to what we were going through, there just wasn’t anything in place after the memorial service. You just got through it.
My mom worked very hard to create a good life for herself and us. She stayed engaged in her world, spent hours growing beautiful flowers in her yard, and was a present and loving grandma. At 88 years old, she is an avid theatergoer, and a voracious reader and attends multiple book groups each month. It isn’t the life she hoped for, but she honors his memory with the life she has created.
On this day, I always make sure to call my mom and to let her know I am remembering him too. Her grief has never gone away, and this day is always challenging. My memories of my dad and the impact of his loss have softened over the years. I haven’t created new memories or known him since I was 21. At that time, I felt like I was still a kid and I now feel worlds away from who I was at that time.
Now
I’ve grown up and am now the same age my dad was when he died. I have created a life and a family that I am so proud of. I am sad when I think of all he missed out on. He would have loved being a grandpa and everything else that retirement would have meant for him. However, I am deeply pragmatic. That isn’t how his story ends and I choose not to spend time thinking about the what ifs. I have a feeling this sensibility is firmly rooted in the moment I lost him. The worst can and does happen.
I take solace in knowing how lucky I was to have a great dad. Although he has not physically been here for many years, the foundation he laid has greatly impacted my choices. He had a hand in why I chose my husband and how we raised our kids. I always wanted to make him proud and still find myself wondering what he would think of me and my life.
From the day they were born, I have told my kids about my dad, shown pictures of him and shared my favorite memories – like how he would make chocolate chip cookies and leave tons of dough on the beaters for me to lick. One of my children is named after him and I think he would be very proud of his legacy. It is no replacement for the life we should have had with him, but I know his influence lives on in all of us.
It has now been four years since I have owned Hope Through Healing Publications. The purpose of this company has always resonated with me but each day this feeling gets stronger and stronger. Daily I am shown the power of empathy and am amazed by the incredible work of the programs we support. This important work is happening in places you would expect such as hospices and hospitals. But some people see a need that isn’t being met and take it upon themselves to acknowledge the death of a loved one in a meaningful way. Financial planners, veterinarians, and churches recognize the impact of grief and ensure that the people they work with are seen and supported.
We still live in a world where we don’t know what to do when someone dies or what to say to the grieving. We have lost some of our traditions and rituals that helped us navigate loss, offering comfort and empathy. This makes us feel powerless and leaves the grieving feeling isolated.
Working in the grief industry has given me a new lens to see my own experiences with loss. At the time, I felt so isolated in my grief and didn’t honor it the way I wish I could have. I often think of my younger self or my mom in my present work. I remember how those early days felt. I am grateful to be a part of a company and industry that helps people do more than just “get through it.”
I have learned so much from the hospice workers and other professionals I get to work with. They have shared their words and wisdom, and this has empowered me in my work. I still don’t always know what to say or do and understand now that that’s ok.
Offering resources to people going through a devastating loss is powerful. It lets them know that you see what they are going through and care. It validates their experience and offers guidance through unknown and scary times. We can’t change their loss, but we can offer comfort and ease their journey.
Written by: Lisa Huycke, Hope Through Healing Owner