By Meghan Fitzpatrick, Hospice & Palliative Care Representative
Old Colony Hospice & Palliative Care
Recently, many of my dearest friends have suffered profound losses. Bearing witness to so much grief in such a short period of time has been heartbreaking, but unexpectedly, it has also been deeply inspiring.
I have been some version of a caregiver since I was 10 years old. I babysat my much younger sister and the neighborhood kids. I worked as a lifeguard. I cared for people with disabilities and later for the elderly. Caregiving has always felt natural to me. I am good at it, and I have always been comfortable in the role.
So when, this January, one friend, then two, then three, and then members of my own family shared their losses with me within the span of two days, I felt a sudden jolt. I can help right now. I can show up. I can take care of these extraordinary people I love. As heartbroken as I was, I was also overwhelmed with gratitude. Gratitude for the things I still had in my life that others I love had just lost, and gratitude that I was in a position to be present for others and remind them that they were not alone.
And I did. I still am. Grief does not operate on a schedule, and I am here for the long haul. Over the course of this month, though, a new kind of gratitude has taken root. I am deeply grateful to have such courageous people in my life, people who are teaching me how to be vulnerable.
I am a born caregiver. I am also absolutely terrible at letting myself be cared for. I do not know if it is the result of being raised by not one but two strong, independent mothers, or the fact that Beyoncé’s “Independent Women” topped the charts at a formative time in my life, but I will exhaust myself handling everything alone before making a single phone call asking for help. As I write this, I am waiting for a rental car after mine broke down, despite the fact that three people offered to come pick me up. I did not want to bother them. They are busy.
For most of my life, I have considered this self-sufficiency a strength. Sometimes it is. There are moments when there truly is no one to help, and you simply have to carry on. I move through the world with the confidence that, short of a wildebeest attack, I can handle whatever comes my way. But grief and loss are different. This month has shown me that doing those things alone is not strength. It’s just lonely.
Grief is one of the few experiences that unites every human being. Like joy, it has the power to bind us together if we allow it. Allowing it, however, requires courage. Sadly, emotional vulnerability is often treated as weakness. Vulnerability can be frightening. You are exposing your deepest hurt and hoping that people will respond with kindness. Too often, we avoid this risk with distant platitudes such as, “We are hanging in there,” “Taking it day by day,” or “It is what it is.” We stay in the safe, shallow end of the conversation pool rather than risking any deeper dives.
But none of my friends took the safe option. They were honest. They were raw. They let themselves be seen in their pain, even when it was uncomfortable.
That kind of vulnerability is heroic. Emotional honesty is a risk. It invites awkwardness, silence, and even rejection. But like any hero who steps forward despite the danger, that courage is contagious. Those of us who witness it feel inspired and, strangely, comforted.
Grief is universal. When we share it honestly, we give others permission to do the same. My friends showed me that when my own losses come, as they have before and will again, I do not have to endure them alone. I may be a cry-in-the shower and put-your-big-girl pants-on kind of person by habit, but that does not serve anyone, least of all me.
After a month spent bearing witness to people brave enough to grieve openly, I can only hope some of their strength has rubbed off on me. So the next time you are struggling, reach out. It may feel frightening, but it is also heroic.
About the Author: Meghan Fitzpatrick is a business development representatives at Old Colony Hospice & Palliative Care. She has a strong background in assisted living and dementia care. She is also a trained support group facilitator for the Alzheimer’s Association. Her compassion and knowledge make her a vital part of Old Colony Hospice’s outreach efforts. She is a trusted resource in the community, connecting with families, providers, and community partners throughout the region and can be reached at mfitzpatrick@oldcolonyhospice.com.
