Of loss and saying “No”
Another unexpected loss of a lovely human being brought on regrets of missed opportunities. There is also loss in saying “No” while honouring who you are and what you want.
Enabling The How #209. Reading time: 5 minutes, 18 seconds
The problem with loss is that it is so often unexpected. And because it's unexpected it brings with it regrets. We try to learn from those regrets but do we, ever?
We had another loss last week. Chantal’s children’s grandmother and Leah’s great grandmother was suddenly gone out of our lives. Granny Jean, Auntie Jean, Jeanie, names that called out to her with love and warmth are not going to be called any longer.
Only three weeks ago she was at Leah’s first birthday party. She was lively and cheerful, and chatted animatedly with her fellow great grandparents.
A few days after that colourful day she took a tumble that rolled her into hospital. It went downhill from there. Down and out. Out of that noisy ward, out of this earthly life. Far too soon for everyone left behind. She said “No” to life and “Yes” to peace.
Just like that and as unexpectedly the regrets rolled in and bulldozed us flat. Why didn’t we spend more time with her? Why didn’t we take more photos? Why didn’t we video her with Leah? Why? Why? Why? Too many “if only’s” too late.
There are other losses
Losing a family member is a pivotal loss and one that is very difficult to deal with. Even when that person has lived a good and full life, the gap leaves an echo in our hearts that is hard to still. A loss of this nature is understood as big and accepted as one to grieve and mourn.
There are other losses, though, that are not always appreciated or given the time to process. Any change in circumstance means saying goodbye to something, someone or an old identity. Changing jobs, getting married or unmarried, retiring, having a baby, even moving house.
BIg or small, these changes mean saying goodbye to a version of you. It can feel counterintuitive in the build up to, and the joy surrounding, a wedding or a new arrival or a stimulating new job, that there is some grieving to do. There is.
There is the goodbye to being a single adult, or part of a couple untethered by the responsibilities of a tiny being, or in a comfortable job now outgrown. It’s a small grieving, often overlooked and swept aside in the urgency of the new and exciting, but a grieving nonetheless.
Before we know it we are looking back with some regret at not having appreciated the time, the ease and the freedoms we had then. Maybe we also regret not taking more notice of those around us or recording our times with those who knew us as that past person.
Loss in a “No”
A loss can come in the form of a “No”. Certainly there is a loss in being told “No” and there is a loss in saying “No”. In both instances it’s a loss of opportunity, a “what could have been”.
We said “No” a few times in the past week: to presenting at a mental health conference and facilitating at a children’s summit. This is a positive step for us even though what led to the “No’s” was clouded in some form of disappointment. In all of the circumstances, what we wanted and hoped for was not the outcome. We were offered alternative options but none of them really suited us, what we stand for, or wish to communicate. We said, “No, thanks” and lost the opportunity to meet new people and have new experiences.
In the past we would have fallen over ourselves to just do something. We would have rather appeared, at our cost, doing something that we didn’t really want to do, just to show up. We have learnt, the hard way, that this does not lead to the expected return on investment. It often doesn’t even lead to building a network. Contacts quickly fizzle and fade away when the perceived synergies don’t quickly turn into cash.
There are regrets
To be able to say “No” and accept the loss of opportunity allowed us to refocus on what was more in our sphere of influence. We have an offering that is truly ground-breaking. It is paradigm shifting and all the other clichés that describe something new. As a result it is also not often seen for what it is.
There is frustration in that for us. We developed something ahead of its time in 2017, and it remains so in 2025. We have stopped trying to convince others of its merits. We have flexed and pivoted and said “Yes” many, many, many times.
We have also felt a sense of loss at unrealised expectations and dreams. There is a sadness at not being the excited duo with bright shiny cheeks and enthusiastic smiles urging anybody and everybody to look at what we have.
There are regrets that flap listlessly at the periphery of our consciousness. Should we have done that? What if we had kept going with the other? Where would we be if? We made our choices and cannot turn back any clock. It is what it is. “Accept what is” one of our principles reminds us.
Reality has made us grow up. It’s made us tougher, clearer in our pursuits and less likely to crumble at rejection. Even as this year has opened with opportunities that have slipped away or scattered in the winds of change and challenge we know we have to keep going. And we do, with a warm heart and an open mind.
Be silent and still
And so it is with any loss. In the vacuum left behind there is a temptation to not move, burdened by the regrets and “what if’s”; or move too fast to escape the dull ache of emptiness.
There is another way. In some ways, more difficult, because it requires us to be silent and still. Just for a moment, or maybe longer. In this space there is the opportunity to remember that which once was. It’s a moment to embrace the memories and hold them tight or gently and then to watch them keenly as they wrap themselves around our heart and burrow deep inside.
Granny Jean didn’t say “No” that often. She lived her life in service to her family and friends. She helped raise grandchildren, supported her own children in a multitude of ways, watched and worked around her beloved husband who crashed through cancer and she sacrificed much. It tired her out in the end.
In the end she chose peace. Now we are called to feel, in the quiet of a dark night, the whisper of a kiss as she passes by, the squeeze of her hug and the sound of her voice, always encouraging, urging us to feel the music and dance.
No regrets, then, only fond memories and a commitment to do better, always.
Until next time.
Yours in feeling,
Matthew & Chantal
Jean (with her husband Spike) danced through life with grace and laughter,
and now rests with peace in her heart. We’ll hold this moment, and her, in ours always.
In loving memory, 12 April 1941 to 25 March 2025.