Reflection and Honor During our Grief

by Emily Otremba and Christy Witkowski

***Trigger Warning: Today’s post will be discussing grief and loss***

At Solidago, the team has been discussing the word reflect and what that means to us. We are encouraged to listen to and trust our hearts with the content we share with the world. This is part of honoring our whole selves and what truly impacts our occupations (the things we need and want to do with our time). Recently we’ve had a pull on our hearts telling us we need to uplift our stories. This would provide some context and understanding to the content that has been weighing heavy on our hearts, as we feel many would relate to the subject-- grief and loss. In this post and a series on grief, you’ll hear from me, Emily Otremba, and my colleague Christy Witkowski, who you may remember from the Lives Well Occupied: Lessons from Near and Far interviews.

Emily’s Experience with Grief

A little over two years ago, my dad died-- It was unexpected. It was traumatic. It was and still is heartbreaking.

If I’m being completely honest, the pieces that shattered inside my soul that night are still being pieced back together. Yet, I know some of those fragments are now forever with him leaving me not quite whole-- for my dad was my favorite person, my best friend, the one person who I felt truly knew me. He talked with an open heart, listened without judgment, and loved deeply.

I will spare you the details, but what I will say is one of the most difficult concepts to grasp within those first few days and weeks after losing him-- is not quite comprehending how the rest of the world continues to move forward, when my whole entire world just stopped. Came to a screeching halt in an instant-- without warning.

I was one month into my OTA (Occupational Therapy Assistant) program. To experience such a catastrophic loss so soon into my schooling did not go without challenges. I couldn’t sit still and found myself constantly fidgeting in my seat. I had difficulty focusing and would oftentimes find myself staring at the same page in the textbook for extensive amounts of time-- sometimes longer than I would like to admit. Even though I now know this is not true, I felt like I was no longer Emily in class-- instead I was the girl whose dad tragically died. I was quiet and did not know what to say and to whom. But one of the biggest difficulties I faced during school was experiencing severe anxiety-- the need to constantly check my phone to reassure myself that no one else I love unexpectedly slipped away from me again.

Throughout that first year, I often heard the same thing from people my age or younger-- they did not know how I could go back to school or work after I lost my dad. They felt, if they had lost theirs, they wouldn’t be able to get out of bed because they wouldn’t be able to live without him. Trust me, I don’t want to live without my dad, but I also know-- I don’t have a choice.

One thing I want you all to know about my dad, Ron-- he loved people and loved the little things in life. Whether he saw a beautiful sunrise, had a great conversation with a family member, friend or stranger, heard a funny joke, mastered a new technique for woodworking, read a good book or enjoyed a Coke and a cookie at 9:30 a.m., he appreciated those little moments with his whole heart.

How could I enjoy those moments for him if I never got out of bed?

With great difficulty, I had to tell myself every single day to get out of bed and drive to school. If I needed to go home because I was having a rough day, I would allow myself to-- yet I found myself never leaving early, even on days where now looking back I most certainly should have. I had and still have many rough days. Held back countless tears. Wished this was a nightmare I could wake up from. Felt like I lost myself-- some of those broken pieces still to be found. However, I knew I did not have a choice, so I pushed through-- for I did not feel dropping out of my program would be honoring him, would not be honoring me.

Ever since I received the devastating news, I’ve felt a strong pull to honor my dad-- small acts to showcase my love and let him know he is forever alive in my heart!

To honor him, I sang, “I’ll Fly Away” at his funeral-- a song he loved and a passion we both shared, singing.

To honor him I wear plaid on his birthday-- that is how I always picture him, in a flannel shirt.

To honor him I look up at the stars each night-- something we enjoyed doing together.

To honor him I slowly walk outdoors and appreciate the beauty nature provides-- he found joy in every season.

To honor him my mom, brother, and I are setting up a scholarship in his name to help a student achieve their dreams-- my dad loved to learn and encouraged those around him to continuously seek the answers to the questions they had.

Every day I find ways to honor him. Honor the inseparable bond we share. Honor the love I have for him.

Image Description: Image on Left- Emily honoring her dad, Ron, by having a Coke and cookie at Disney World. Top Right Image- Emily honoring her dad, Ron, at her college graduation by writing, “Dad, I did it. I love you!” on her graduation cap, the first major milestone Emily reached after losing her dad. Bottom Right Image- Picture of a river and trees changing color on the anniversary of her dad’s death. Emily, her mom, and brother went hiking in honor of Ron.

Christy’s Experience with Grief 

As Emily stated, a good portion of my experience with grief has been shared in an audio interview by Lives Well Occupied: Lessons from Near and Far. In the interview, I reflect and discuss how I have had two major life events throughout my teenage years (a major sports injury and the death of my mother, just one month apart) that have taught me how to handle and navigate my life with grief now as an adult. 

In November 2017, my husband, Doug, lost his 21 month battle with stage IV colorectal cancer, leaving me a widowed single mother to our sweet little girl. As I reflect on the past 4 years of my life with him gone, I find that my grief right now, is just as tough as the moment he took his last breath, except now it shows up in different ways. It went from being constant waves pounding over me with unbelievable force, taking all my energy just to stay afloat as I tried to figure out life as a widow to now showing up as giant waves that are more spaced out but when they come, they hit with just as much force that it still knocks me down, but also gives me some time in between to allow me to brace myself for the next wave.

Doug was the kindest man I have ever met. He was also a strong man physically, mentally, and in his faith. He never complained about how tired he was or how sick he felt from his treatments. I was able to hold his hand as he took his last deep final breath. In that moment, I could feel all of his physical pain being set free. In that moment, my world came crashing down and the weight of my grief rested on my very tired body and would remain there to this day.

Grief has no time limit. It can disappear and reemerge without warning for an entire life span. 

Grief is also often shared. The loss of Doug was not just my loss. Our then four year old daughter just lost her daddy. His mother lost her son. His older brother lost his kid brother. His twin brother lost his best friend since before birth. The rest of his family lost a grandson, nephew, and cousin. His work family lost a co-worker. His best friends since middle and high school lost an amazing and loyal friend. This one major life event has a ripple effect on so many people. That is often how grief unfortunately works. It is not just one person’s grief, it can be communal grief. We will talk more about this later in this blog series...

Like Emily, I found it extremely hard to wake up in the morning in the days, weeks and months following Doug’s death. But I was a mother to a helpless little girl who did not really know what was happening. Our daughter was/is our world. I would not be honoring my love for Doug and his love for his daughter if I just stayed in bed. So every single day, I got up for her because she needed me. I was not going to let her (or him) down! She is my reason for everything that I do and do not do. It certainly was/is not easy! On the really hard days, I tell myself to just focus on one task at a time. Just get up and brush your teeth. Just wash your face. Just get dressed. Just make breakfast. Just get her to school. Just breathe. 

Sometimes that is all I can do, breathe. On other days when the grief is not so heavy, I can focus more on the whole day or week ahead. I think having something to focus on, even if it is one task at a time and honoring that my body is grieving, is key. 

Emily mentioned several wonderful ways she honors her dad. I too, honor my husband, as I find it the most therapeutic way for me to heal and keep his memory alive for our daughter, our family, our friends, and for myself. 

I honor him by telling my daughter stories about him and inviting those in our lives to share their stories of him with her too.

I honor him by hosting several different fundraisers throughout the year to raise money in his name for colorectal cancer research and awareness.

I honor him by asking people to celebrate his kindness by performing random acts of kindness on his birthday.

I honored him by going back to school and now pursuing a career helping others through Occupational Therapy.

I honor him by thanking God for the blessings in my life each night before I go to sleep. I honor him by waking up and getting out of bed every day. 

Image Description: Collage of Christy and Sophia honoring Doug. Top left photo: Sweatshirt from one of their fundraisers that says, “Live like Dougie. Be Silly. Be Kind. Be Honest.”, Top right photo: Christy’s daughter, Sophia, laying in the grass underneath a sign that says, “This hole is sponsored by Sophia Witkowski: I love and miss you so much, daddy!”. This image represents one of the many ways Christy and her daughter honor Doug by hosting a golf tournament to raise money for colorectal cancer research and awareness. Bottom left photo: Christy and Sophia in their Dougie gear holding a picture of Doug golfing. Bottom right photo: Sophia honoring her dad, Doug by wearing the clothes from their colorectal cancer fundraiser.

Grief is ugly and complicated. Our goal for this blog series is to help those battling grief in its many different forms and to start a community conversation on ways to help each other feel whole. We invite you to join our conversation as we dive deeper into this topic throughout the blog series on grief and loss.  

Below are the two parts of Christy’s interview that were mentioned in this blog post if you would like to listen to them.

Part one of Christy’s interview: https://solidagovc.com/blog/m84kuw9di7oni0424w5ocedudcrniw

Part two of Christy’s interview: https://solidagovc.com/blog/navigating-resets-part-2-of-interview-with-christy-witkowski-ota-graduate