Unfortunately, in life, we all go through some type of grief. But the most painful grief is over the loss of a loved one, and this kind of sorrow often feels like an insurmountable burden that weighs heavily on our hearts and minds. No matter how hard we try, we can never be fully prepared for how to deal with it, as the heartache can strike when we least expect it, often catching us off guard. There is no playbook or guidelines on how to navigate the tumultuous waters of grief or a specific timeframe on when to get over it; it is a deeply personal journey that differs for everyone. We can only leave it to God and time, allowing ourselves to heal at our own pace, even if that means taking one small step forward and several steps back. But having a support system around you could be immensely helpful during this difficult time. Having people reach out with a text, a phone call, or a card can go a long way in reminding you that you are not alone in your pain, reinforcing the notion that connection and community can provide solace in moments of despair. Equally important is giving yourself grace to feel sad; it’s a vital part of the healing process that should not be rushed. The important thing is that you try every day to accept the support offered to you and take tiny steps to avoid isolating yourself from those who care, opening up yourself to the love and compassion that surrounds you. Simple gestures like chatting with someone, taking a walk, listening to music, or indulging in a luxurious bath that may help soothe your spirit can be profoundly healing. It’s essential to recognize that with time, the frequency and intensity of the sadness do become more bearable, transitioning from a sharp pang to a more dull ache, which is a sign of healing.
For those on the supporting end, be conscious of the fact that the person you are supporting may not always seem warm or eager to communicate, and it’s crucial not to take it personally; their emotional state often isn’t a reflection of your care. Let them know, in your words or actions, that you are there anytime they need you, and ensure that you truly mean it with sincerity and patience. If they seem overwhelmed and don’t want to talk or answer the phone, send a gentle text letting them know you are praying for them and that you’re here whenever they need you, reminding them that your support is unwavering. If they appear to be in the mood for companionship, consider taking them out or visiting them with something you know they would enjoy to eat; a small act of kindness can lighten a heavy heart. But remember to let them express themselves and talk about whatever they wish to discuss, permitting the conversation to follow their lead. Perhaps they want to share their feelings, recount cherished memories, or even switch topics entirely to politics or the weather—whatever brings them comfort in that moment, let them lead the conversation. Being there, listening, and validating their emotions can significantly contribute to their healing journey, as the act of being present can remind them of the love that surrounds them, even amidst their grief. Sometimes, simply knowing that someone cares enough to sit quietly with them during their pain can be the most profound form of support.
Like most people, my ability to embrace change is very difficult. As someone who just went through some serious changes, I am very mindful of the importance of letting go. In 2024, I retired from my job after almost 30 years, a milestone that felt surreal and momentous. One month after I retired, I lost my beloved mother, a profound loss that left an indelible mark on my heart. Six months later, my only son informed me he wanted to join the military, a decision that both filled me with pride and anxiety. It was a tumultuous time, to say the least, a whirlwind of emotions that made daily life feel like navigating through a storm. But my motto of making lemonade when life threw you lemons prevailed, and I found myself diving deeper into self-reflection.
I hatched a grand plan: I was going to get into my writing career full-time and spend time in the Caribbean, an escape that represented both a fresh start and a healing journey. It was a vision that felt vibrant and invigorating, one that promised adventure and exploration beyond the familiar rhythm of my everyday life. However, there is a saying that when man/woman makes plans, God has other ideas, and soon I found myself at a crossroads. The decision loomed over me like a gray cloud, as I debated whether to sell my house, a space filled with years of memories and cherished moments. My daughter was in the market for a home, and after much deliberation, the decision was made to sell her my house, allowing me to stay with her while still spending my winters in the Caribbean.
I am a typical Caribbean woman of a certain age, deeply connected to my roots and heritage, which shape my identity and perspectives profoundly. I love antique furniture—the large china cabinet, credenza, antique chairs, and Queen Anne center table; they are more than just items to me; they are treasures that tell stories of the past. I always believed that they were the epitome of elegance, embodying a rich sense of character and history. Out of respect, my daughter decided to create my own living room and put her own touch in the rest of the house, which I appreciated, yet I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a longing for the way things had always been.
The china cabinet was too big for my newly configured living room, so I decided to see if anyone wanted it, thinking it deserved a good home. My antique credenza was priceless, or so I thought, brimming with memories and stories only I could appreciate. So, I placed an ad on Facebook Marketplace as well as in my community WhatsApp chat, hoping to find someone who shared my appreciation for these items. However, the response was underwhelming. One lady showed up for the China cabinet and immediately declared that it was too big for the space she had, leaving me momentarily deflated. No one even showed interest in the credenza, and I scratched my head in wonderment, grappling with the perplexing thought of how everyone could not see the beauty in my priceless antiques.
Days turned into weeks, and with a heavy heart, I eventually decided to call sanitation for a special pickup truck, a decision that felt like a final farewell to a significant chapter in my life. I stood on my patio as the truck crushed my beautiful pieces of furniture, screaming “noooo” the whole time, a visceral reaction that echoed my heartbreak. My heart was breaking with each piece destroyed, and I felt that I would never get the image of those beautiful furniture being crushed out of my head, a haunting memory that lingered like a painful shadow over my spirit. It felt like a symbolic severing of ties to the past, marking the end of an era, and with it a spectrum of emotions that were hard to process.
Winter rolled around, and my thirst for the tropics took over; the allure of sun-soaked beaches and vibrant sunsets became impossible to resist. So, off to the homeland I went to mend my broken heart, seeking solace in the familiar warmth of the Caribbean sun, where I hoped to find healing amidst the gentle waves and fragrant breezes that had once brought me joy. The days there were painted with hues of tranquility, allowing me to reflect on the life I had lived and the significant transitions that had sculpted my journey thus far.
About a month and a half into my trip, I received an email. Someone wanted to interview me. I felt it strange because I did not apply for the job, it turned out they must have gotten my resume from a job board I had posted my resume on years ago. I did the interview and never expected to get called. About six weeks later I got a call that they wanted to check my references. At this point, a part of me was hoping they wouldn’t give me the job, because I had my retirement all planned. I returned to New York torn between staying retired and getting back in the job market. My apprehension grew as I reflected on my previous work experience in corporate America and the private sector; this job was a government position with a union, presenting a different environment from what I was used to.
My daughter did not think I should accept the job. “Ma, why would you want to come out of retirement?” she asked, her voice laced with concern for my well-being. “Try being locked up in a house all day talking to a dog who can’t answer you back?” I chuckled at her with humor, realizing that her concern was rooted in love. So, with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, I decided to give it a try. I went through my training and finally made it to my post. The first day, I fully expected to hate it. But surprisingly, to my delight, I loved the job and the team more than I could have ever anticipated. As days went by, my admiration and enjoyment for the work grew deeper.
Through this new chapter, I discovered a few enlightening truths about myself. I am quite adaptable; change, I realized, is necessary and healthy. We just have to let go of old stuff and ways of doing things and embrace the change that life presents us. The fear of change can often paralyze us, holding us back and bringing unnecessary pain. However, if we can release our baggage and face the changes in our lives, it could lead to beautiful new beginnings. Today, I don’t dwell on that furniture I lost; instead, I cherish the memories and lessons learned. I still have my chairs, side table, and Queen Anne table, remnants of my past that now feel like beacons of what I have overcome.
It dawned on me that I didn’t need to clutter up my space simply because I was afraid to let go of the old. My daughter eventually added a fireplace, did the floors, and bought new furniture that brought warmth and modernity into the home. And although I wouldn’t say it out loud, I recognized she has great taste, and I am growing to love her modern style. As for the pieces I once thought were to die for, I must admit they weren’t that cute at all in hindsight. One day, my daughter asked if I needed her help decorating my living room space. I was tempted to say no, wanting to hold on to what I thought was my vision. But I decided to accept her help this time. Surprising to me, with just some decorative cushions here and a few other thoughtful decorations there, my space transformed into something remarkably beautiful, while still maintaining it’s antique essence.
This experience reinforced a powerful lesson: Change is a healthy thing. Letting go can be liberating; it allows us to embrace new opportunities, expand our horizons, and revitalize our lives. When we hold onto the past, we often stifle our potential and limit our growth. By choosing to release old habits, fears, or even relationships that no longer serve us, we create space for fresh beginnings. Take a deep breath, step into the unknown, and embrace a healthy change, for it is through these transformations that we cultivate resilience, innovation, and a renewed sense of purpose. Each change brings with it a chance to learn and adapt, encouraging us to explore paths we may never have considered before, ultimately leading to a more fulfilling existence.
As we navigate the retirement stage of life, it is important to maintain healthy social networks – talk to relatives and friends regularly, visit family and have them visit you. It doesn’t have to be a big to-do; small gestures can have a significant impact. To further clarify, I will give some examples. I make a conscious effort to reach out to friends and family on a daily basis, rotating phone calls as to who I call. I have a bi-weekly meetup and breakfast with friends when I am in New York and mix that in with hanging out with my family. Sometimes it’s a trip to a resort with the entire family, or a visit with my daughter to our favorite lounge for some jerk tacos, which always brings back fond memories of our shared experiences. But everything doesn’t have to be about spending money. Sometimes we just watch our favorite 90 Day Fiancé show with a bowl of popcorn, sharing laughs over the hilarious moments and discussing the episodes. But whatever I do, I chat with my family and reach out via phone or social media to those afar. In the Caribbean, I make it a point to visit various relatives and friends as well as have them visit me, which helps strengthen our bonds and creates new memories. My sister and I meet up regularly to spend quality time, whether it’s going to the beach, exploring new places, or just reminiscing about childhood memories with laughter and warmth. Sometimes we isolate ourselves from loved ones and the world, unintentionally creating distance. We stop calling, and no one bothers to call us; it’s a silent spiral that many find themselves in. We stop going out, and no one checks on us. This is usually the precursor to depression and other mental illnesses. It is important to not only have family support, but to also have social interaction of some sort on a regular basis. If you are like me, you can write. Your writing doesn’t have to be too formal; it can be a way to express your emotions and connect with others. You can write a journal, poems, or short stories that share your experiences. You can also create social media family or friend chats that engage relatives and friends, keeping your circle informed and involved. The idea is to find a feasible way to stay in touch with your circle; sending quick messages or sharing photos can keep the connection alive. Not only do you need that social interaction, but the people you reach out to may need it as well, creating a reciprocal relationship that benefits everyone involved. The beautiful thing about the world we live in is that it is not difficult to stay in touch. We no longer have to write letters that take weeks to arrive at their destination, or pay expensive phone bills to converse with someone, or buy an airline ticket or drive a car to visit anyone. We can do free video chats or make calls on social media like WhatsApp or Messenger. What it takes is a determination to stay socially engaged and for those around us to check in, fostering a community of care and support. In one week, I visited my parental home and spent quality time with my sister where we enjoyed a refreshing sea bath and finished the weekend at her house, reliving our childhood and sharing dreams for the future. During the week, I worked on my fourth novel, another passion that allows me to both express myself and connect with others through storytelling. I went to the city to meet up with my sister and have lunch with my niece, cherishing those moments that often slip by too quickly. At the end of the week, we went to my cousin’s house for a social gathering filled with laughter and joy. By the weekend, I am back at my parental home to spend the night, enjoy my weekly sea bath, and go back to my sister’s house for a night before visiting my ancestral home where I was born. A trip there always offers an opportunity to walk in the footsteps of our great grandmother, a journey through memory and legacy that enriches my spirit. My cousins still live there, and we are still able to visit and reminisce about the good old days, sharing stories that weave the fabric of our family history. There are simple ways to stay in touch, keep your spirits up, and engage in healthy interactions that nourish the soul. There is no need to shut ourselves out from the world, or go into a mental funk. Retirement is a time to recharge, enjoy life to the fullest, and do all the things you wanted to do before retirement but didn’t have the time for. There is journaling, social media engagement, lunch and meet-ups, gardening, going to the gym, walking pets, or even taking cruises that open up new horizons. The possibilities for staying in touch are endless; the key is to be proactive and intentional about maintaining those connections. If you are blessed to reach retirement, you are among God’s lucky people. Don’t squander it; instead, embrace this season of life with open arms and a joyful heart, surrounded by those you love.
Trish St.Hill 