Working in Pain
Tragedy never follows a schedule, and it never comes at a convenient time. You could be at work one day, and you get that call that forever changes your life. I got that call while on shift when I worked at the Mayfield Inn & Suites (now Doubletree). Three months later, my mother passed away just hours before I would report for work. My story could easily be similar to yours or one of your co-workers. The workplace does have a role in supporting someone going through a painful chapter in their life. Life is hard, but we can do hard things with community support. You may know about a colleague's pain or not; either way, be kind. Here's my story.
April 27th, 2006. Rember that day? The Edmonton Oilers were playing the Detroit Redwings in the NHL western conference quarterfinals in the playoffs.
I remember the day very well. It began at 4:27AM when I received a phone call letting me know that I should get to the Grey Nuns hospital as soon as I could to say goodbye to my mom. She passed away that morning.
I remember calling work to let the hotel know that I wasn't coming in that day, and then I sent an email update to all of those who were keeping track with me at the time. After that, I went home, met with people who came to visit, and went for a walk.
This is me and my mom
What really stands out that day was the call I got on my cellphone. It was an old Nokia flip phone, you know the one and the ring tone. A friend called me to tell me that he and others were thinking of me. He also wanted me to know that many of them were going to meet up at the Druid to watch the game and that they'd like to see me there. Back then, I lived 6 blocks away from the Druid, so I walked over just before the game started.
Edmonton lost that game 4-2, but the team would win the series in game 6. Those who cheered the Oilers back then can remember how much fun it was. It was like the whole city became friends for the playoffs. I haven't seen anything like that since. Though, maybe 2022 is our year!
What I really remember from that night specifically is this.
I remember seeing my friends. Friends whose parents were friends with my parents and grandparents who were also friends with my grandparents. A rare, unique treasure that few have. I wasn't alone. I got through the day, the week, and the months ahead. The power of community.
In the months that followed, people checked in on me. When I would be standing in line at a food court, I'd get ready to pay, and I'd feel a tap on my shoulder, and it would be someone from the church community where I grew up. They'd step in the pay. The message was clearly "He's one of ours; he's covered". It was usually one of my parents' friends or my grandparents' friends doing this.
The lesson from this and the purpose of this post is to make it known that I realize how important community is. Heaven forbid that I lose any of my friends early before old age. However, if that is not a reality that I can count on, I am committed wholeheartedly to looking out for the kids of my friends. I will be stepping in to pay for that meal, encourage them when I see them, and do everything possible to let them know they're not alone. It's what I'd like them to remember.
We don't get to choose when pain comes our way. Often, we need to keep working when this happens. Working while in pain is hard, but it's easier with community.