Memorial Planning as a Way to Avoid Grief Processing

I'm not actually recommending it.

Memorial planning chaos on my kitchen counter

My dad’s memorial is on Saturday. My anxiety is up, and not surprisingly, I’ve been struggling to sleep and then having some wild dreams once I do drift off. In the latest one, we were having a memorial for my dad, but he was still alive. (dreams, amiright?!) In this dream, just as in real life, I was planning to speak about him; but in this version I was sort of avoiding it while others stepped up to share stories and I found myself wandering around in other parts of the venue and not really paying attention. When I returned to the room where the speeches were happening, much of the audience had trickled out. My dad was still there, but starting to fade like a ghost by the time I finally got up to share some words. I felt like I had missed my window.

Any dream analyzers out there want to tell me what this means?

It’s strange to be in the role of event planner when you’re in the midst of losing one of the most important and loved people in your life. I honestly don’t know how people manage to plan funerals that take place immediately after the death of a loved one, because that seems impossible. I want the celebration of my dad’s life to be wonderful and reflect our love for him, but I’ve realized that I have placed so much pressure on the event itself, and cried a lot less. I’m worried about table linens and timing, and of possibly being so overcome with grief that I cannot speak at all, but even more worried that maybe I somehow won’t even cry. I want this day to be so special for my dad, and meaningful for me and all of us who loved him, and I hope the day-of I can move past the anxiety and be present.

My therapist suggested perhaps I’m dividing up and channeling my emotions into event details because it’s easier than just sitting in with and feeling all that sadness in one big awful, all-consuming lump. I don’t think she is wrong - apparently keeping busy to avoid grief is a thing. This wasn’t the case immediately after my dad died, I have absolutely grieved, but as his memorial approaches, the only way I seem to know how to get through it is to hyper-focus on the event itself.

Both my dream, and the challenge of planning a memorial in the midst of grief remind me of a story about a family friend. He had a terminal illness, and decided he didn’t want people to wait and have the big party without him, so he threw himself a memorial before he died. He was able to bid farewell to everyone before he left, and to give his family the space to grieve when the time came without the pressure of planning an event. Obviously this isn’t feasible (or desirable) in most cases given that death is usually less predictable, but in his it was rather brilliant.

The other day we heard machinery buzzing outside the windows, coming from behind our house. I was laying down, exhausted from aforementioned lack of sleep, when my husband came up and told me to look out back. A man was in the huge willow tree behind our house with chainsaw, about to lop off the last remaining top section of the tree. That tree was just behind our property, but has been the focal point of our backyard and was a charm factor when we bought the house almost three years ago. It framed the edge of our backyard, gracefully swooping down over our fence, providing a comforting boundary and cozy protection. Not only was the view suddenly much less appealing (the street, some houses and power lines) but we lost the shade in our backyard and the privacy that big, dramatic tree provided. Sure, the massive amount of leaves it shed all over our backyard in the winter were kind of a pain in the ass, but we loved how it was always there, marking the seasons alongside us.

We were all shocked, and then pretty sad. My middle son in particular was devastated and sobbed the loss of that tree. He missed it. It’s always been there. What if we forget what it looks like? I comforted him on the couch, and while I held him he said, “don’t show me any pictures of grandpa right now, I’m already just too sad.”

Admittedly, I went straight to thinking about what we could do, what trees could plant to “fix” it. Unlike my son, I’ve subconsciously learned to build up a protective barrier that includes tackling all the logistics I can in order to march toward progress, and maybe to avoid the sadness. But I did for a moment feel the loss of that tree, too. It made me think about how the most stable, strong, beautiful and comforting things in our lives that we assume will always be there can actually disappear in an instant. Apparently this is 2024’s message for me. Hopefully I can use it to enjoy and appreciate every day just a little more.

Goodbye, weeping willow. We miss you.

The day after my dad’s memorial, I’ll be on a flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina. I might cry the whole flight, with no more logistics to occupy my energy (also, what is it about airplanes and tears?). But then I plan to enjoy my first visit to this incredible city - send me tips if you have them. I’ll be attending another Gender Lens Investing Forum, and there are several panels on the care economy and the silver economy, so hopefully I will have some interesting ideas and innovations to report back.

Have you struggled - or succeeded - in being present with grief while also managing all the logistics? What did you find helpful?

Look out for my article in SSIR

In other news, I’m excited to share that an article I co-authored has been published in the Summer 2024 issue of the Stanford Social Innovation Review! It is scheduled to be up online on May 31, but I got a surprise physical copy in the mail yesterday. The piece is about the foundation I’ve worked for over the past decade and how as a small, fixed-life foundation we leveraged creative funding approaches and partnerships to generate catalytic impact for women in Latin America that will continue on even after the foundation closes next year. I’ll send a quick message when it comes out with the link. If you’re interested in philanthropy and have a chance to read it, I’d love to hear your feedback and thoughts.

xoxo Anna

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