Why We Should Not Slam Doors

A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the couch watching TV and my phone dinged. I casually flipped my phone over and I was met with horrible news. A friend of mine had passed away. She was young, not even thirty. I’d seen her at a café before acting class the week prior. I re-read the message four times. I didn’t believe it. How could that be. The shock turned to sadness, intensely. Tears welled in my eyes.

Over the next few days, I cancelled plans. I didn’t go to acting class. I struggled to meet deadlines. I wasn’t extremely close to her, but I had known her a while. She had a seat at my table, and she will no longer be showing up. And that’s absurd, sad.

Death turns a page, even if we aren’t finished reading.

Death reminds us that life is finite, fragile, and unforgiving. Without warning, death makes us feel pain, makes us question. It prompts us to pause schedules, projects, spreadsheets, so that we may nurture our grief.

When our routines are broken by bad news — death, pain, break-ups, family emergencies — do we let them be broken? Do we try to keep them up? Do we try to re-imagine them?

Bad news messes with routine, most literally. Hospital visits require unforeseen PTO days. Moving out takes weeks of planning. Funerals are a whole to-do. We cut our days short, skip gym time, and forego date night altogether.

Bad news also messes with routine, emotionally. Grief cannot be scheduled, nor can the state of our mental health. Even after we return to work and we’re back on our grind, that pain sticks with us, distracts us, makes upkeeping our calendars harder to do. Carrying that pain tampers at our confidence, too, eats away at the most empowered versions of ourselves.

“Grief is not one thing, and it is not linear,” says The Guardian’s Natalie Morris. “It looks and feels different for everyone, and it can hit you at any point – even months or years after the fact. Despite popular reliance on theories such as the five stages, there is no clear roadmap for grief.”

There is no legal requirement for employers to offer bereavement leave. On paper, it’s to be expected that you return to work. So, how do we carry emotional hardships with us?

I attended a memorial that celebrated the life of my friend who passed away. We shared memories, told stories, and held on to each other for support. I saw people I hadn’t seen in a long time. Our shared grief brought us together.

That’s the funny thing about loss. Everyone experiences it at some point or another.

According to Eterneva, over 57% of Americans have experienced a major loss in the last three years.

Knowing that those around us are currently experiencing grief doesn’t make our grief any easier. But it is a fact: we are not alone in our complications and pains. Death disregards status and overlooks lifestyle. Grief equalizes us all.

So, when we go out in the world, we do have the chance to see our pain in others. And we have the choice to practice understanding.

That person who cut you off on the freeway might be rushing to the hospital. The rude hostess at the restaurant might have lost a close friend the day before. Or even your partner, who you’re fighting with about the dishes again: they may be dealing with grief, some kind of pain, from years ago that resurfaced today in the form of dishes.

We are all at different stages of healing, and no one heals in silos.

So, before going to bed angry, before slamming doors, try to resolve issues, or table them, especially with the ones we love. Because, sometimes, the root of temporary frustrations is much deeper.

Besides, life is fragile. We don’t know when our story ends, when others’ stories end. And while we ought not to live in fear, we can give grace — to ourselves, to those we love, and to the strangers that fill the spaces in between.