by Lori Arnold

“Can you just stop and listen to me? I need someone to listen to me.”

“Yes ma’am,” says the woman on the phone, the irritation dripping from her voice.

“My mother recently passed away and I need to close out her account.”

The woman proceeds to ask for information, which I provide.

She places me on hold so I can listen to canned music yet again.

A dozen or so minutes pass before she returns to the line, whamming me with this: “I can’t really go any further without talking to your mom,” she said.

“The first thing I told you on this call was she died,” my voice shaking with emotion, grief and rage mixed with tears of loss. “You can’t talk to her. She’s dead.”

It was the second such conversation I had regarding my mom in a week.

As successor trustee for Mom’s trust, I was navigating territory no one ever wants to explore. Mom and I were especially close and her sudden death from a stroke numbed me. At 84, she was slowing down but still vibrant. She lived alone and still drove. A week before her death we went to church together, attended a ballet performance of a young family friend and finished the evening with crab cakes at her favorite restaurant.

Although she had planned well for her passing, it was still a maze of paperwork. There were also arrangements to be made for a memorial service, notifications of family and friends, and the empty hours of processing what was lost.

As a freelance writer, I had the benefit of flexibility but no protections for family leave. Going without a paycheck was not an option, which meant I literally had to work through the grief—and the fog that followed.

The journey has not been easy, but I’ve been blessed with clients who have been patient and accommodating through the process. Through it, I have learned some valuable tips on how to cope.

Be realistic – Prioritize the workload

Recovering from grief takes time so make time for it since it can’t be calendared. The unpredictable nature of grief creates waves and cycles. In anticipation of this, it’s important to reduce the workload to allow space for grief pockets.

Be prayerful about which jobs to accept and don’t be afraid to say no, a difficult proposition for writers who spend years cultivating potential clients. I reluctantly did just that earlier this year, explaining why I wasn’t available. To my surprise the magazine editor recently reached out to me again, offering a new assignment I was able to accept.

Ultimately, I ended up working about half as much this year. It meant major adjustments financially, but my mental and emotional health benefitted from the reduction. The clients I did continue to work with also benefitted from a less scattered worker.

A caveat: One of the trademarks of journalists is a tendency to procrastinate. Don’t. Work ahead as much as possible. Doing so allows us the freedom to feel and process when we are slammed with a wave.

The fog of grief exists – Make (and follow) lists

I scanned a list of emails competing for my attention.

“Did you have a chance to review the blog email?”

I gulped. It was written by a client in response to a matter I had initiated. I looked at the date it was sent. Four days ago. Four days? How could I have missed the email?

I never imagined how much my memory would suffer because of grief. Because of my strong faith—and Mom’s—there is an enveloping peace with her passing. Yet, with lingering emotions and staggering details competing for my attention, I often had a hard time finding words. That’s like trying to play football without the pigskin.

This was particularly unsettling for me as my memory has always been sharp. As a former religion editor for a daily newspaper, I knew on cue the addresses and phone numbers for dozens and dozens of churches.

I also forgot tasks and conversations, which meant keeping lists and paper trails was an important resource tool—providing you don’t forget where you put the list. If I had followed my own advice, I would have been able to pen this blog the first time I drafted an outline!

Less is more – Work in small batches 

My normal practice is to block off large segments of time to work since it takes a bit of time to get into a rhythm. Writing for just an hour or so reminds me of classes at school. It takes a bit for the teacher to take roll and make announcements. Students also need time to settle down before instruction begins. The next thing you know there are only five or so minutes left and students are already fidgety as the clock ticks toward the deadline.

Since Mom’s passing, though, an hour was all my mind and body seemed to allow. Concentration was at a premium and working for just 60 minutes suddenly became uncharacteristically productive. I didn’t need a clock to tell me when to stop; my mind’s creativity usually gave way to a muddled mess of distractions. By breaking the work into smaller slots of time, I spread them throughout the day and evening with better success. Now, nearly a year later, I’m able to return to longer writing sessions.

Avoid isolation – Create time for fellowship

I thought I was prepared for all the demands of settling a trust and processing paperwork while winding down Mom’s affairs. I was wrong—especially in a post-COVID era where customer service seems to have experienced its own passing. (One representative called me by mom’s name five times, even after repeated correcting.) It’s impossible to recount how much time was lost to filling out forms, sitting on hold, waiting for callbacks and then initiating follow-up conversations—repeating Mom’s story every time I was passed on to a different department.

The time commitment, coupled with my freelance business, was enough to make me consider withdrawing from everything but Sunday worship services. Even as an extrovert, the idea of gathering for my weekly Bible study and other social gatherings overwhelmed me.

It may appear frivolous to protect (or add) fellowship time when faced with increased trust demands or coping with grief, but it was in those moments when I needed fellowship the most. Why? Because the freelance lifestyle is itself isolating. Add grief to the mixture and it can be a dangerous combination, even for people of faith. Those days and nights when I dragged myself to a gathering (or Zoom call) were where healing began and creativity was stoked. It was where Christian friends held me up when I was weak. They were the support bars surrounding the trampoline where I aimlessly bounced in an attempt to regain traction. As the months passed, I was able to bounce myself back onto solid ground.

Everyone indeed deals with grief differently, just as every freelance writer approaches their work and assignment load differently. My prayer is that these tips may be a starting point when faced with the daunting reality of working through—and living with—grief.

Lori Arnold is an award-winning journalist and editor who began her career at a community daily newspaper. After it folded, she served as managing editor and primary writer for the former Christian Examiner newspaper and its successor, Refreshed magazine. In addition to freelance writing through StoryLori Media, Lori is working on a nonfiction book project for Christians eager to see Jesus from a unique perspective and how He serves as a model for us. www.storylorimedia.com.