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Canva Photos & Elijah Linder/LinkedIn

Bereavement leave doesn't get a lot of press, and it's awkward to talk about. But this story will make you smile for sure.

When someone suffers an unexpected loss in their family, there is no simple playbook for how to respond. Grief is immense, powerful, and hard to talk about. It's awkward, and as an outsider you're afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. You may even want to help but have no idea how other than vague sympathies and platitudes.

It's even stranger when you're the person's boss. There are professional boundaries to consider. Plus, after all, you've got a company to run and a responsibility to the other employees to make sure work gets done and the lights stay on. You're in the uncomfortable and unenviable position of having to make sure the trains keep running, so to speak, while also showing empathy and understanding.

But maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated. One story recently shared by Elijah Linder on LinkedIn shows there might be a better way for companies and managers to handle bereavement.

 death, bereavement, grief, time off, paid leave, work, corporate policy, HR, heartwarming, kindness, good bosses Grief does not fit a 3-5 day schedule.  Photo by The Good Funeral Guide on Unsplash  

Linder runs a company called Bereave, which aims to help organizations set up better bereavement benefits and resources for their employees. So, he talks to a lot of people about what happens at work when the loved one of an employee dies.

One such story was so powerful, he just had to share:

"A woman lost her mom less than a week ago. She also accepted a new sales job during that same time," he begins in a recent post.

Can you imagine? The pain of losing a parent is overwhelming, even traumatic. Doing day to day functions like getting out of bed, eating food, and caring for your own children become almost impossible for many people. Add to that the unimaginable stress that you may lose the job you just worked so hard to get, and on top of everything else, you might be unemployed or at least persona non grata at your new workplace right off the bat.

The good thing for the company to do in this case would be to honor the offer of employment, but delay the start date to give the woman some time to grieve and deal with funeral arrangements. Ultimately, though, you probably couldn't fault either party for just deciding that the timing was unfortunate and going their separate ways. There's really no concrete timetable for how long it takes to properly grieve.

This manager, however, did one better. According to Linder, the boss honored not only the job offer, but the initial start date as well. Then, he gave the woman six weeks of paid leave right off the bat, before she'd ever had a single day of work.

She would keep her job, she would get paid, and it would all be there waiting for her when she was ready to begin. It's an incredible gesture of sympathy and trust for someone he barely knew.

"She's going to run through a wall for that manager. For that company. ... How's that for signaling 'we got you?'" Linder wrote.

Read the whole post here.

The post went viral on LinkedIn, pulling in thousands of Likes and Comments from people who were moved by the story.

Though we don't know much about the woman or the company, what amazed people was the thought process on display. Companies usually think, What's the least expensive and painful we can make this, for the company? This manager decided to make the tragedy less expensive and painful for the employee, even though she hadn't even worked a single day for him yet.

"Companies think because they can't quantify exactly what this person did into literal dollars and cents that it means it's not worth doing. Yet anyone with a human bone in their body knows how impactful something like this is to people and what it does for their motivation and engagement. It's like employment steroids and companies keep sleeping on it," wrote one reader.

"It’s not hard to be kind. I don’t know why these kinds of stories are not the norm," added another.

The average length of paid bereavement leave in the US is about three to five days for the death of an immediate family member. That is stunningly low—but it's the norm almost everywhere. Sadly, this is one benefit that's not much better in many European or other developed countries.

In another post, Linder shares a "brief" list of all the things someone has to take care of in the event of a sudden death of a close family member, including arranging funeral services, burial specifics, obtaining a death certificate, writing an obituary, and more. And that's to say nothing of the actual grieving process, which has barely begun in just five days.

And then, he writes, you're expected to go back to work a few days later like nothing happened.




Linder's story prompted others to share inspiring moments when places of work became something more, and how good people step in when corporate policies fall short.

"I'd just hired & relocated a guy & his family. I think he was there not much more than a month after the family relocated. One day jogging, he had a heart attack...and passed away. The HR Manager picked up the phone and called Payroll and told them to keep the paychecks coming, to his wife until he told them otherwise," Don Harkness commented. "And knowing she had just moved, she'd left friends and family behind. He gave her a choice. She could stay in her new home. or if she wanted to return to her previous venue, the company would pay to relocate her back. I think she opted to return. It made a deep impression on everyone."

Linder even shared another one of his own: "We recently heard about a manager who had a teammate that lost a child... The teammate took 30 days away from work. When he came back, the manager told him to delete all of his emails. Told him not to worry about catching up. Told him to start fresh and that he'd support him in doing so. How's that for signaling 'we got you...'"

One man shared a tear-jerker of a story on a Reddit thread about bereavement: "I lost my wife of 20 years when I was 44. It was cancer, 21 days for diagnosis to death. ... My company said the same...3 days [of bereavement]. I had been with the company for 20+ years. My boss said, 'Take the time you need. You will continue to get paid. If anyone says anything to you, tell them to contact me.' I will always be grateful that my boss stood by me."

Bereavement doesn't get the PR that vacation time and parental leave get, so the policies at large may not change any time soon. It's the leave you hope you never have to use, but let's be clear, it's no vacation. Having at least a few paid days off is the bare minimum a human being needs to function after a loss. But we can do better than a few days, even if we have to do it in some unorthodox ways. That's what people looking out for other people is all about. It's great to see and hear examples of it happening out there in the real world.

sabfortony/TikTok

Sabrina (@sabfortony) eats the last meal her husband Tony cooked for her before he passed away.

Losing someone you love never gets easier, and the grief process comes in waves. One way TikToker Sabrina (@sabfortony) got to honor her husband Tony's memory was by eating the last meal he cooked for her the day he died.

Sabrina shared the emotional video with her followers on TikTok. "I’ll forever miss Tony’s cooking," she captioned the video, adding, "Let's eat my late husband's last meal together."

@sabfortony

i’ll forever miss tony’s cooking #lastmeal #moving #griefjourney #healingjourney #lifeafterloss #partnerloss

It begins with Sabrina holding a small quart-sized plastic container up to the camera, and she begins to describe its significance. "I have something very special here. The day that Tony passed away, I really wanted curry–and I wanted Japanese curry, so I asked Tony to make me some and he did," she says. "I ended up freezing it because I wanted to preserve it forever. But because I'm moving out of state, I need to eat this. I know some of you might think that is crazy cuz it's been over two years. Tony was the primary cook of our family, and so anytime I was craving something he would make it for me. That was one of the many ways that he showed love for me."

She then heats up the bowl of curry so that it is "scalding hot," noting that it has "turned to mush" before she tastes it. "Thank you Tony for my last meal in this home," she says. "And my apologies that I am raw-dogging this–I don't have any rice."

TikTok · Sabrina 🫶🏼

tiktok couple, love story, widow, last meal, emotional TikTok · Sabrina 🫶🏼www.tiktok.com

160.8K likes, 1635 comments. “I never want to forget what we had, ❤️ so I choose to tell our story. My heart breaks for the ones who’ve faced a similar tragedy.”

As she tastes it, she is delighted. "Mmm! Still good," she says. "This has carrots, onions, potatoes, beef, and he put mushrooms in it. Beef is still very tender!" As she gets to the last bite, she says, "Thank you, Tony!"

Sabrina's emotional video got an overwhelming response in the comments.

"🥺🥺🥺 last meal in the home you shared together 🥺," one wrote, and Sabrina replied, "😭 he knew i needed it 💗."

Another wrote, "Just thinking how his hands cut the ingredients and his heart cooked it with love made me sob. What a beautiful moment." Sabrina responded, "so much love 😭😭 it’s so special."

Another viewer commented, "He’s sending you off to the next chapter with love 🥹❤️," and Sabrina replied, "so true 😭 i’m so thankful for that."

Other viewers shared their personal stories of how food connected them with lost loved ones. "I kept my mom’s kimchi for as long as I could. I ate it the night I got my heartbroken and felt so comforted. Food is such a strong connection to those we know we can’t hold anymore," one shared. Sabrina replied, "food really is such a beautiful way to connect with people 😭 i’m glad your moms kimchi was a source of comfort 💗 she is with you always."

Another viewer shared, "When my grandmother knew she was sick, before she told anybody, she baked, cooked, froze, and canned until the pantry and freezer were full. After she died my grandfather ate her meals for a year." Sabrina responded, "what a beautiful soul 💗 caring for the people she loves."

Image from Pixabay.

I still miss her.


My mother died from ovarian cancer when I was a young child.

I'm in my late 30s now, and I'm still navigating this loss as I move through life. I've lived most of my life without my mother at this point, but I still miss her.

Here are three things I've learned since losing Mam:

1. Grief is not linear and is not solely expressed through tears.

Someone you love has been taken away from you, and your heart has broken into pieces. It's natural to grieve, but we all grieve differently. Grief shows up in anger, sorrow, guilt, fear, and sometimes peace. It is unpredictable and, at times, exhausting.

I cried when my mother died, and I cried at her funeral when my school choir sang "Be Not Afraid." I didn't cry much in the immediate years that followed — not directly as a result of Mam's death, but probably indirectly related to it. I certainly felt fear and anger and other emotions related directly to my loss.

Then sadness hit me like a ton of bricks one day when I was in my early 20s. A compassionate friend asked me about Mam, and as I hadn't spoken about her to anyone outside the family, I broke down. It was a good release. The years have brought many stages of grieving.

Mother's Day is never easy. Shopping for my wedding dress without my mother brought up intense feelings of loss. And sometimes it just hits me hard, on a regular day, yanking me out of my pleasant thoughts. A mother in a dressing room with her daughter, and they're trying on clothes together, admiring how the other looks. The mother telling the daughter how beautiful she is.

Or a friend of mine, meeting her mother for lunch and I can't even imagine what that would be like! I can't even fathom the amazing joy of having lunch right now with Mam! And then I get that heaviness in my chest and my stomach feels bad.

There's no closure. My grieving stems from having loved so deeply. I have learned to tune into the emotions I'm feeling and to acknowledge the love, the pain, and the loss.

2. There are no replacements.

Nobody can replace your mother. We love our mothers in our own individual ways. Our mothers care for us when we're sick, guide us in life the best ways they can, listen to us, and love us unconditionally.

For a mother, her child is always her first priority. And we sense this. We feel it. We know it, even if she doesn't say it.

mother holding her baby girl

I was told that she called me her little angel.

Photo provided by author Carmel Breath.

My mother was beyond happy when I was born a healthy baby girl. I was told that she called me her little angel. She carried me in her womb for nine months.

By the time I was born, we had that unbreakable bond, and she knew me from that first second of my existence. There's never going to be a replacement for that person who loved me probably more than she loved herself. The joy in her eyes when she saw me, the warmth of her arms wrapped around me, the pain in her eyes when she had to say goodbye are all ways that I remember the deep love she had for me.

Mam prepared lunches for me every day to take to school, named muffins after me because they were my favorite, and surprised me with the best doll she could find when I was a few years old. She repaired my soft toys when they tore, taught me to have manners and sit up straight, wiped my eyes when I cried and my nose when I was sick.

Today I look for certain qualities in people. I look for a warmth, a radiance, a compassion and kindness that Mam had. I look for humor, a voice of sense, and strength of character. These are traits that my mother had. I find some of them in others.

But it's never the same. There'll never be another Mam. She's irreplaceable on so many levels.

3. There are other people who will love you and other people for you to love.

Family members and friends will love you. They might not know exactly what your needs are or how to address them, but it's worth reaching out to them. People struggle with different things.

Perhaps family members cannot love you or be there for you, and we may have to look around, let go, and reach further than we might want to in order to find the people who really love us, but there is someone out there to love you, and there's someone in need of your love.

I was blessed with the kindest, most devoted father who gave my brother and me all the love and care we needed. My dad is a gem in my life. He calls me to hear my news and to share his. He worries when I'm not feeling good and is overjoyed when I'm happiest. He listens to my concerns and trusts me to make the right decisions.

My dad has helped me so much in dealing with my loss, through caring for me and loving me unconditionally. I have the most wonderful fiancé who loves me to no end. And I've friends in my life who I know truly care about me.

I've been blessed with a lovely family, but it doesn't mean that I don't reach out to others. I've reconnected with old friends after years of distance. I've discovered things I have in common with others and opened up to new friendships.

Having people to love is truly healing. I was a kindergarten teacher for 10 years. I loved the children in my care, and they showed me so much love in return. By spreading love, we invite more love into our lives. Try volunteering or working in a school or a hospital. There are people everywhere in need of love.


Our world is so big and yet so small now in this age of technology. We can reach out to others across continents.

Our mothers were the first to show us the true meaning of love. In honor of our mothers, let's spread that love wherever we can.


This article originally appeared eight years ago.

Family

A letter to my mother-in-law who spoiled my sons

"It's pointless to dwell on regrets, but I often think about how I had it all wrong. I was so wrong in how I perceived your generosity."

An open letter on boundaries and respect.


You always stole my thunder. You gave them everything they wanted. You never said no when they asked for anything.

three young boysTina Plantamura's three sons.Tina Plantamura

A second helping of dessert. Candy before dinner. A few more minutes in the bath. Money for the ice cream truck.

I struggled to show you respect and appreciation while trying to make sure you didn't spoil my children. I thought you would turn them into “selfish brats" by giving them everything they wanted. I thought they might never learn to wait, to take turns, to share, because you granted their wishes as soon as they opened their mouths and pointed.

You held each one of my babies long after they fell asleep. Didn't you understand that I needed them to learn to fall asleep on their own?

You ran to them as soon as they made the tiniest sound. How would they ever learn to self-soothe?

I resented you for buying the best and most expensive gifts on their birthdays and on Christmas. How could I possibly compete with you?

"I thought they might never learn to wait, to take turns, to share, because you granted their wishes as soon as they opened their mouths and pointed."

And how they loved afternoons spent with you. You made their favorite things for dinner—three different meals for three different boys. And you always had a little surprise. A present, candy, or a special treat. I didn't want them to associate you with gifts and sweets. I thought they should love you for you. I tried to tell you this, but you wouldn't listen.

I spent a lot of time wondering why you did all these things and how I could get you to ease up. I know grandmothers are supposed to “spoil the kids" then send them home, but you were...ridiculous.

Until you were gone.

I had to hold my boys and tell them that their grandma died. It didn't seem possible—you were supposed to be there for all the other special moments: proms, graduations, weddings. But they lost their grandma too soon and too suddenly. They were not ready to say goodbye.

During those years when I wished you'd stop spoiling them, I never thought about how much you loved them. So much that you showed it in every way possible. Your cooking. The gifts. The candy and sweets. Your presence. The way you could recount every detail of a special moment, whether it was a perfect catch in the outfield or a sweet and slightly off-key note sung at a school concert. Your grandmotherly love for them knew no bounds. Your heart poured love from every place possible—your kitchen, your pocketbook, your words, and your tireless arms.

It's pointless to dwell on regrets, but I often think about how I had it all wrong. I was so wrong in how I perceived your generosity.

My kids, now in their teens, miss you dearly. And they don't miss your gifts or your money. They miss you.

They miss running to greet you at the door and hugging you before you could step in. They miss looking up at the bleachers and seeing you, one of their biggest fans, smiling and enthralled to catch their eye. They miss talking to you and hearing your words of wisdom, encouragement and love.

If I could speak to you one more time, I would tell you that every time a precious moment steals my heart, every time I watch them arrive at a new milestone, and every time they amaze me with their perseverance, talents, or triumphs, I think of you. And I wish that they could have you back.

Come back and love them one last time, like no one else in the world but a grandmother could. Bring your sweets and surprises. Reward them with gifts for the smallest accomplishments. Painstakingly prepare their favorite meals. Take them anywhere they want to go. All and only because you love them.

Come back and see how much they've grown. Watch each boy becoming his own version of a young man. Be in awe with me as we admire how family, friendship, time, and love helped them grow so beautifully over the years.

The more I long for you to come back, though, the more I realize that in a way, you never left.

three teenaged boys

Tina Plantamura's three teenaged sons.

Tina Plantamura

I understand now. I know you loved them in every way you could. I know that being their grandma gave you joy and purpose. And of course I know that you can't come back, but I do know that your love for them will always remain. Your love built them and sheltered them in ways that cannot be described. Your love is a big part of who they are and what they will become as they grow. For this, and for every treat and gift, and every time you held them too long or consoled them too much or let them stay up too late, I will always thank you.

And I will wish a million times that you could do it all again.


This article was written by Tina Plantamura and originally appeared nine years ago.