WORK

This week, work feels different.

Though that's a bit of progress, because last week it felt impossible.

Trigger warning:

I'm going to talk about my dad's death in a way I haven't before. It's heartbreaking, but I find that writing helps, but writing about it for the first time is tough.

I was just diving back into work last Monday, after returning from an incredible vacation with our three adult kids to Copenhagen, Stockholm and Oslo. We drank a ton of coffee, ate great food, saw lots of things, traveled by plane to get there and back, and by train through all three countries, including an overnight train. It was awesome.

I got to talk to my dad while I was in Norway - he was so excited I finally got to go, as I had wanted to since that day when I was 14 and he took me to my first concert - a-ha. I figured a country that Morten Harket was from was a place I must visit! Nearly 40 years later, I did.

So back to that Monday. I had spoken with him the night before, and my husband had gone metal detecting with him, right after he returned from the wake of a dear friend (we could not have known that 72 hours later, we'd be back at that same funeral home talking about my dad.)

Sometime after 10AM, there was a persistent ringing of the bell by front door, which is right next to my office. Most people don't come to the front door - they come to the garage door. As I was walking to it, I could see a police officer out the glass. If a police officer comes to your door, there's a good chance you did something wrong, or something terrible happened to someone you love.

Even though I logically knew it wasn't, I was hoping it was the first.

It wasn't.

He asked if I was Tracie, I said yes. He asked if my dad was Mike Morin, I said yes. He then said he had a heart attack playing pickleball and he was taken to Concord hospital.

"Is he alive?" I asked.

"I don't know." was his answer.

That 10 minute drive to the hospital was the longest 10 minutes of my life. My husband was an hour away at work, my brother was traveling, so I was alone. The emergency room immediately escorted me back to a family waiting room. Eventually - what felt like 10 hours later but was probably 10 minutes - a doctor came in. I was able to get my brother on the phone as he explained what happened. I still wasn't clear about the outcome so I asked if he was ok.

"I'm sorry. He's no longer with us."

The whole thing played out exactly like I have seen in so many movies. And I kind of felt that way - like I was watching it rather than experiencing it.

I got to see him after, and talk with a wonderful social worker. The next days were a blur of crying, making arrangements, and all the other necessary but awful things - especially telling our kids. That was maybe the worst.

So, why am I writing about this in a newsletter?

Grief is a part of life, and work is a part of life. At any given time, your co-worker, employee, boss, friend or someone else in your life may be experiencing something like I did. If you don't know them well, you may not even know what is going on.

I'm autistic, so my outside doesn't always match my inside, and that's often confusing for people. I find myself explaining that I am grieving, though it may not look like it. I'm sad, even though I may be smiling. Don't assume if someone has experienced a loss and they come back to work quickly (like I did with my mom - I never missed a day, which in retrospect was a terrible idea) that they aren't grieving. Don't assume if someone looks ok that they are ok.

It's hard to know what to do - I didn't before I lost my mom, and I am still bad at grief. Both experiencing and being there for people! But I'm trying.

How can you help someone who is grieving?

Listen. Really listen, when and if they are ready to talk. Do things. Drop by with food (honestly, that helps a ton!) Take over some of their workload. Support them in any way you can - but in a way that makes sense for them.

They may not be able to verbalize it at the time, but they appreciate it. And you.

COMMUNITY

My community - or parts of various communities - really showed up for me when my mom died, and when my dad died. I will never be able to get back to all of the comments, messages, etc.

But I am so grateful. Because that's really comforting. Just a simple text - I'm here if you need me - means the absolute world.

Because I might.

And I feel less alone when those people that reach out have walked through similar grief.

So, thank you, to my LinkedIn community, my family, my clients, my friends.

You have no idea how much your kindness means to me.

Here's my absolute favorite picture of my mom and dad, now together forever probably bickering a bit and laughing their asses off together, as they always did, for 50 years.

Love and miss you both.

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COFFEE (though not really this time!)

I will be back to regular coffee posts next time.

But this section I wanted to devote to my dad's side hustle.

For some of us, side hustles become careers. That was kind of the case for me, as part of my career focuses on public speaking.

My dad had the coolest side hustle. He founded a football team when he was 22 years old, a team that is still going strong more than 50 years later. He coached for more than ten years, and hearing from his former players, many of whom are now of retirement age, has brought a bit of joy to the pain. The Derry Demons did this beautiful tribute for him, and we're going to be honoring him in a way that weaves in football (his first sports love) and pickleball (his last sports love.) It will be a beautiful celebration of life, the perfect way to remember him, and a send-off he would have absolutely loved.

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This week I did not share where I'm going to be speaking, and things I've got going on. That can wait.

I'm doing my best to feel it all - the good memories and the pain. They are both there together, and probably always will be.

Tracie

My Partner Spotlight And my newest partner is...... WorkStory! I'm so excited to be working with Matt and team, sharing more about how they are revolutionizing performance management. Stay tuned for a new article coming up next week. ​

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