“Being now bereft of her comfort, so great a comfort, my soul was wounded; it was as though my life was rent apart, for there had been but one life, woven out of mine and hers” (St. Augustine, Confessions, Book IX Chapter 12).

As my late father’s birthday comes around each year, I’m reminded not only of him but what living in grief for a while feels like. Throughout his nearly-four-year battle with brain cancer, I continued working full time, while also going through a pregnancy, caring for my newborn, and coping with a pandemic. I can’t say I was truly prepared for any of those things—but at the end of the journey, I realized my relationship with and attitude toward work in general had so drastically shifted that it changed the course of my life.

Disordered Professional Priorities

Coping with long-term end-of-life care and anticipatory (and then realized) grief taught me that my priorities, especially in relation to work, were disordered. I was deep in hustle culture, working at a company where I’d been for years, desperate for yet another promotion, a raise, a bigger, better, more important professional position with more responsibilities and recognition.

Then, in July 2018, in the middle of the night, everything changed. When I woke up that morning, I had a frantic call to get to the hospital—mercifully a short drive from my house—where my dad had arrived via emergency medical transport. The next week is a haze of doctors, surgeries, treatment plans, and bad news: a diagnosis of glioblastoma and a life expectancy of 15 months. Somehow, my clearest memory of these days is not only the doctors and waiting rooms but also sitting by his bedside while he slept, on my laptop, answering emails. It felt important at the time. Six years later, it feels ridiculous.

Over the next four years, God took the open door of this crisis to reach me when I’d shut Him out before. I was forced to pause my professional ambitions, delegate many of the tasks where I’d gained praise to the point that they felt integral to my identity, and ask myself hard questions about what would be important moving forward.

Where I previously had filled my time with the hustle of work, commuting, volunteer commitments, and household responsibilities, now I often faced waiting and silence. As stressful as it could externally be (the waiting often happened in the lobby of treatment centers or bedside), it forced me to pause in a way I never had before.

Lessons I Learned From Long-Term Grief

Establish your priorities and don’t shy away from focusing on them.

Don’t let your highest priorities be ones that others can take away from you. In the long term, reestablishing and focusing on my priorities helped me to be more empathetic and supportive of people also prioritizing things outside work, whether it be child care, elder care, or a personal or family crisis.

Don’t be ashamed to delegate.

It’s not shameful to delegate when needed or to recognize that asking for help can bring about a better end result. A team-focused work culture leads to the ability of any member to step away as needed, as well as a realistic perspective on which tasks can wait or not happen at all.

Be a support for others when you can.

I vividly remember the moment when I first felt capable of participating in a meal train rather than receiving one. Although my time of accepting help was long (and I still find I can’t do as much volunteering as I used to do), I find joy in helping where I can, when I can. I know there will come a time when that will change again.

Shifting Focus

In the six months after my father passed away, I was suddenly without the many long-term care responsibilities I’d taken on over the years. I realized exactly how many tasks I’d previously accepted praise for that I’d now handed over to someone else; how many colleagues saw me as unreliable, not driven, or too scatterbrained to be valuable; how many “friends” I no longer had contact with after they demanded time and attention I couldn’t give.

But I also saw what I’d gained: more empathy for those experiencing grief, a lack of fear in interacting with the grieving, and the blessing of seeing God’s plan enacted even in the midst of suffering. I was closer with my family, particularly my stepfamily, and work no longer seemed so all-consuming or important.

In those six months, I was also demoted from the position I’d worked so hard to gain. The person who became my supervisor shared she could no longer see me outside of my grieving professional self, delegating wherever I could.

And I realized: I didn’t want to return to the work-focused, driven professional I’d been.

I still value working in a professional environment, but I also value attending my daughter’s mid-day Vacation Bible School performance; taking her to dance class, eating lunch with my husband; and, on occasion, reading a book in the afternoon. I couldn’t align my family priorities with the work expectations I returned to carrying.

Ultimately, with the encouragement and support of two friends, I co-founded a small business and, despite the uncertainty of small business ownership, haven’t looked back. It’s an incredible blessing and offers me a great level of flexibility; I can spend school breaks and holidays making memories instead of checking emails. (OK, I confess that I still check them sometimes—but not to the detriment of the rest of my life.)

I love the work I do and the variety and balance it’s brought into my life. As risk-averse as I am, small business ownership would never have come into my life without the crucible of my father’s brain cancer. As much as I miss him daily, I am so grateful for the doors it opened and the lessons I learned through challenges.

Don’t let a crisis force you to adapt your professional priorities. Determine them now, and be brave in sharing them.

Sarah Battersby has a Bachelor's in English and a Master's in Social Work and has spent most of her career working with students and student-serving organizations. She is the co-founder of a consulting firm that serves donors and philanthropic organizations seeking to create and manage impactful scholarship programs. She loves reading, baking, being a mentor, and discovering new things with her daughter. She lives in North Carolina with her family.