When I was a professional photographer, I got the humbling experience to be with people on their best days and sometimes their worst days. In rare moments, those two experiences intertwined together in a breathtaking, heartbreaking dance of love and grief — saying “hello” and “goodbye” on the same day. It’s a weird thing to be in the room when a parent is saying goodbye to their child for the final time. I’ve had the mournful experience of doing that 4 times for those close to me. Those moments forever changed me.
I will never forget showing up at my friends Phil and Mary’s house to take family photos of their 10-month-old son, Patrick, who was diagnosed with coronary heart disease (CHD). After many surgeries, his parents and medical team moved him home with palliative care to spend the rest of his days enjoying life to the fullest.
His house was filled to the brim with food and people. We had a full day of family photos and then documentary-style photos of many of Patrick’s “firsts”. First family walk, first taste of cake, first candlelight prayer vigil as family, friends, neighbors, and community members surrounded their house to sing, pray, support, and grieve for a little boy who belonged to a family they loved.
At one point earlier in the day, Patrick had just been given some pain medicine from his nurse and he was laid on the floor on his blanket with toys to rest and play. Older sibling, Mira, laid down beside him and started quietly singing to him. Patrick kept reaching up to touch their hair and hold their cheek. I held my breath through tears watching all of this unfold before my camera trying hard to be a fly on the wall yet understanding exactly what I needed to do.
Mira was also a heart disease patient who had walked a similar road as their little brother, and it seemed on a deep level that both of them understood exactly what the other was going through and what was going to happen next. My favorite photo from that session is not the most technically perfect, but it went on to be featured on The Today Show as well as an ad campaign that specialized in children’s heart issues. It simply was a set of siblings in the midst of literal heartbreak, staring into each other’s eyes, hand on face, comforting each other, saying “I see you. I’m here. I’ve got you. You don’t have to be scared.” It was the same thing everyone out on the lawn was saying to the entire family. That’s what community does. A week later, Patrick peacefully passed away in his mom and dad’s arms while they sang him songs and reaffirmed their love for him.
I never would have guessed that those same sort of experiences would happen in my other careers, but they did (and still do) a lot. Death, tragedy, pandemics, financial strains, family issues, layoffs, new life, addictions and abuse, breakthroughs, new chapters, unexpected blessings, and second chances are all things that our team members carry with them into the workplace. In order for our team members to be their best and most authentic selves, you have to have hold space for it all.
I have to remind myself of 2017 as an employee on a bathroom floor in a panic attack. It was a pretty dark year in my life that I never thought was ever going to get better. My soul was bruised, broken, and bitter. Years later, I can look back with remarkable clarity and see the progress that was born out of the pain and the people who showed up to shine the light on the path forward for me. Those that said “I see you. I’m here. I’ve got you. You don’t have to be scared.” Majority of that year was a hot dumpster fire. It’s easy to focus on the tragedies — the things that scarred us or shook our foundations. What’s hard to do is to focus on the good — the rays of hope, the tiny specks of light that did break through in our darkest hours. The friends who sat beside us even in the silence just so we wouldn’t be alone.
As we move into a new year, heartache doesn’t suddenly reset with the calendar. For some of our team members and even ourselves, the burdens of pain and stress spill over, casting shadows that threaten to erode our joy, our peace, and our sense of stability. It follows us to work. It demands our focus, steals our sleep, and haunts our heavy hearts. It settles in and refuses to leave. How can we continue to hold out for hope for each other? How can we become vessels that reflect even the tiniest bit of light in the darkest of nights? How can we embody that light for others, even when we are struggling to find it within ourselves? How do we show up as empathetic and safe leaders who lead with love and kindness?
“Empathy is being concerned about the human being, not just their output.” — Simon Sinek, Author and Motivational Speaker
This is not the first time in our lives we or our team members will have to do hard things, and it’s definitely not going to be the last. Life has a way of testing us, of pushing us to our limits when we least expect it, but even though we are weary, we are resilient. We have faced challenges before and emerged on the other side. As humans and leaders, we have a profound responsibility to leave people (all people) better than we found them. This is a reminder to be strong and courageous, not just for ourselves but for those around us. Let us continue to show up, support one another, and reflect the light that keeps hope alive. To those who are feeling overwhelmed and burdened by life’s challenges, remember this:
We see you.
We’re here.
We’ve got you.
You don’t have to be scared.
Rachel L. Richard is a small-town farm girl turned suburbanite, a delightfully irreverent optimist, Mrs & Mama, floppy dog ear scratcher, lifelong learner, channel surfer, wanderer, believer, occasional creative, out-of-practice musician, cupcake addict, book devourer, and lover of all people.
