Grieving Patricia Pickens: Trans-Atlantic Travel

"It is often said that the closer we were emotionally to the deceased person, the greater our grief."                                 ~ Kenneth C. Haugk

Atlantic Ocean crossings matter.

New World discovery, slavery and warfare littered the ocean with wayward ships, defiant hostages and watery graves.  Poets, lovers and merchants have drawn inspiration, motivation and profits from the deep.  An Atlantic crossing changed everything for me.

Peace Corps service allowed me to witness families working together in sub-Saharan Africa.  Almost without exception, the greater the unity in a family, the greater the prosperity.  Seeing strong family ties changed my attitudes about our family's business.  Intercontinental emails, letters and broken bread during furlough strengthened my resolve to work with the family.

When considering a new job, parents can provide counsel.  International travel transformed my parents into employers.  To drown demons of nepotism, I set a goal to be the most qualified candidate for a job not yet invented.  A master's degree and one year field placement demonstrated a commitment to put my best foot forward for my new employers.

My mother became my boss.  We met weekly, brainstormed between meetings and worshipped together on the weekends.  Our imperfections did not hinder growth and we made money together.  Ten years after I crossed the ocean, she was diagnosed with cancer.

I would visit her in the hospital but my imperfections hindered bedside manner.  Juggling a laptop and cell phone while she received care seemed impersonal.  Long hospital visits while she fretted over business matters gave neither of us comfort.  I was, and still am, ignorant of how to walk alongside an employer / parent / mentor in her final hours.  Since her death, nepotistic demons have been usurped by circumstantial demons:

We don't live in a vacuum.  Other circumstances in life can affect our grief.  Our family or work responsibilities affect how much time we can devote to our grief and also when, where and how we grieve.  Multiple losses experienced at the same time or in succession can mount up to compound or complicate our grief.  Our culture, traditions and heritage affect the way we grieve, as do our individual personalities -- whether we're introverted or extroverted, emotional or intellectual, bold or cautious.  How we handled previous losses, our current responsibilities, health issues, physical fitness, stress, whether or not we witnessed the death, our religious beliefs and our support system can also dramatically influence the issues and feelings we encounter as we adjust to the loss of our loved one. (~ Journeying Through Grief, Book 1, pg22)

Her death catapulted me into the business' first chair.  Payroll, purchasing, accounts payable and receivable were foisted upon me overnight.  Within ninety days of her death, I also crossed cultural, ethnic and geographic lines to become the senior pastor of a Euro-American congregation.  Her counsel was to, "...cry in the bubble bath," by not letting people know or see my pain.  Crying in the tub works.

Crying in the tub is oceanic, as tears are salty.

Crossing salty water is a form of grieving because things we leave behind are not the same when, if ever, we return.  Grieving my mother is possible because the family business and church have been left behind. Because circumstances have changed, so have the demons' grip.  They gurgle under salty waters as the stakes of exposing my pain are lower than they used to be.

Returning to the unfinished business of grieving my mother is a type of Atlantic crossing.  Dealing with all I've tamped down for the last twelve years is going to take time.  Some things will be left behind or buried in watery graves.  Poetry, love and mercantilism are on the agenda.

I am journeying through grief and the crossing matters.