WorkLife Harmony #11
the gift of grief
Welcome to the 11th edition of WorkLife Harmony: a newsletter about easing the tension between work, life, and play.
🤍 Work: The Gift of Grief
I lost my Grandfather. My Grandfather passed away. I find myself overthinking how to share this in conversations because saying my Grandfather died feels too morbid. Like many of us, I compartmentalize grief, waiting for the weight of it to lighten overtime. Yet, I know we must retell our stories of the dead to keep memories alive.
My Grandfather joined the U.S. Coast Guard in the 1960s and emigrated from the Philippines to Governor’s Island with my Grandma and mother, an infant at the time. Along came my aunties and uncle. The family moved to Alaska and eventually settled down in California. My Papa worked overseas for months at a time to earn the cost of the American Dream for a family of six. His work ethic runs through the veins of his children and his grandchildren. A few days after Independence Day, we all surrounded him in a vigil, praying farewell to a man at peace.
At work, I’ve tucked grief into my mental briefcase, stowing away my existentialism (Where did Papa go? Where do we go from here?) so I can return to it at a more convenient time. But grief is never convenient. You try to brace yourself and plan accordingly, but it will come at the worst time. Isn’t that what grief is: loss at the worst time? Yet despite the sting, the ache, and numbness of it, grief is a gift.
My Papa’s death reminded me that we must live a purpose-driven life. I believe Papa enjoyed an increasingly fulfilling career because he sought something much deeper than financial security, power, respect, or validation. I believe he aspired towards service, harmony, freedom, and nurturing the lives of his loved ones. As a cook in the Coast Guard, he served thousands of meals to thousands of men. And at home with Papa, food was always on the table – from steak & eggs, BBQ pork, to chicken adobo.
This past Monday, I walked into work with a deepened sense of purpose. You can’t wait for purpose to show up on your desk. You have to find it. Just open your eyes – purpose is right there in front of you.
I find it in doing good work with good people.
I find it in the embrace of my mother and in laughter with my sister. I find it in the wind as I bicycle alongside my father.
I find it in the very first pot of adobo I cooked, shedding a tear as I spoon chicken and rice into my mouth, savoring the comforting feeling of childhood joy that will never be lost – it’s always with me.
Grief is always with me, and so is my Papa.
☀️ Life: Pillow-Talk Moments
The summer sun warms my bones. The longer days stretch time, making me slow down and appreciate tender moments. I wrote an essay inspired by these moments and the achingly beautiful movie, Past Lives.
Pillow-talk Moments
I watch two lovers talking in bed. They speak in voices so soft, nearly whispers, like fingertips grazing against skin. Engrossed in the intimacy of their pillow talk, I don't say a word, afraid the husband and wife would hear me through the theater screen.
🎧 Play: Dance Music
Disclosure’s new album, Alchemy, is refreshing and effervescent like a sip from a cold San Pellegrino Limonata.
Thank you for reading WorkLife Harmony. Next week, I’m writing an essay about people-pleasing. Have a restful weekend ❤️
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
Sending lots of love your way, Rachael.
Thank you for sharing these bits of your Papa here.
I love that picture of him; he looks like a gentle badass in those sunglasses.
& I bet his adobo was yummy. I've never had it, but the day I do, it'll be in his honor.
Beautiful, Rach. So sorry for your loss. I feel grief is such a manipulated emotion, a word to which society generally gives a negative connotation. But grief is remembrance, it's remaining attached, it's feeling the presence of the departed. You don't want to lose these things. And so sometimes we say that somebody has finally exited their grieving period after a loss, almost as if they've been liberated. Why? Why would we want to feel liberated of the intense, immediate memories of our loved ones, when they're no longer with us? I welcome grief. I want grief. I grieve as long as I want to. I don't need any help to get me out of grief. "Yet despite the sting, the ache, and numbness of it, grief is a gift." <3