Step Into My Office (SIMO)*: Random Acts of Joy in the Midst of Grief

By Stacey James McAdoo

A few days after my son’s funeral, I penned a couple of Facebook posts that struck a chord with many. The first post suggested alternative ways to communicate with me, steering away from the typical “How are you doing?” inquiries. The second one challenged common clichés like “gone too soon” often used to describe the loss of young lives. Both of these posts stemmed from a deep pain and frustration that are akin to, and remind me of, the empty exchanges of elevator conversations that I loathe.

Given the public nature of my Norel’s life, death, and our family’s grieving process, and because writing is often how I process the world, I feel compelled to share my thoughts once more. I hope they may provide solace or insight to others – and remind or inform folks that grief isn’t a 24 hours a day, 7 days a week constant state of intense sadness. Despite being only 15 days into this journey, joy and peace have visited me often (albeit some visits have been shorter than others). This written reflection about some of the random acts of joy experienced during the beginning stages of our grief serves as a tribute to the devoted individuals who selflessly supported us, setting aside their own obligations to hold us up, hold things down, and offer profound gestures that showed us what love in action looks like.

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Our dedicated caretakers

When I received the early morning phone call from the state trooper asking to meet me at the house, my father-in-law was the second person I called. He arrived before me, and while he covered us in prayer, my mother-in-law and one of her sisters, Aunt Carolyn, started speaking in their love language by making tea and cleaning my home. 

Ground zero was at my mother’s house — for her place has always been my safe haven. It’s quiet, cozy, and filled with mementos and knickknacks that, if they could talk, would say “you are loved”. Momma meticulously documented every card, flower, gift, and donation sent to my house. When I was unable to speak, she stepped in as me to initiate the process for insurance, final arrangements, and benefits.

Chris, a close family friend, who was in town on business generously canceled his own engagements and put his life on hold for an entire week to support us. He made decisions on our behalf when we were unable to, took notes during logistical calls, and provided invaluable assistance during the funeral arrangement meetings. He managed our schedule, reminded us of tasks and to-do lists, and even anticipated our needs, often recalling things we had forgotten mid-sentence or mid-action. While he was always available to help, he also gently steered us back on course when we began to stray—sometimes through thoughtful questioning (i.e. “Are you sure you want to do that? How will that be helpful?” or “Have you considered…?”) and at other times through clear directives (ie. “No, you don’t need to do that.” or “Please, go sit down.” etc.). He even acted as our personal chauffeur, sparing us the burden of driving through tears and brain fog.

While Chris was our primary caretaker, others also supported us in various ways. As the tax season deadline approached for filing and sending out 1099s, another close friend took on that responsibility and also provided us with contact information for several funeral homes. Additionally, another friend took time off work to conduct online searches and make phone calls to help us locate and retrieve the vehicle, and also assisted in identifying insurance policies. Our cousin Yolanda had the foresight to create a “meal train” calendar for us. At the time, I was unfamiliar with the concept, but I recall being told, “If people ask you about bringing food, give them this link.” This link allowed people to sign up to bring meals on specific days and times. Although I am still unsure about all the details, somehow people seemed to be made aware of our food intolerances and preferences, making each meal feel truly special. (Speaking of food – in the immediate aftermath our appetites were nowhere to be found. The suggestion to get smoothies was a game changer. Another game changing gift was ice and a tub of toiletries, cleaning supplies, and paper products that were left on the porch.) 

Remembering Norel

After my brother, Craig, passed away, I distinctly recall feeling angered by the fact that my family and friends rarely spoke his name. It seemed that people believed not mentioning him would spare me pain, but the lack of acknowledgment of his absence hurt just as much.

This is why setting aside time to listen to and share stories about Norel has been incredibly important to me. The stories, photographs, and recordings evoke joyful memories that sometimes prompt me to cry and smile simultaneously or one after the other. Each tear and every smile serves as a visible reminder of our love.

Since Norel’s transition, numerous poems, tributes, and articles have been written and shared about his impact. However, one of the most memorable sentiments came from a Foreign Tongues sister poet, who said: “I will always speak of Norel in the present tense because I know that his spirit is always present.” This affirmation echoed the sentiment expressed by one of Norel’s former teachers, who had just days earlier, written a poem in honor of Norel wherein she reminded me that energy, including Norel’s, is ever present and continues to exist for it is neither created nor destroyed — and when released, it is deployed in the atmosphere and exists everywhere.

Nature Pictures

The first heartwarming image where Norel (at least not in the physical sense) wasn’t the central focus was sent by a mother of one of our Writeous Poets who also lost her son to a car accident. It was a stunning photograph capturing an orange sky with delicate hints of purple clouds and immediately brought a sense of warmth and comfort to my heart.

Following this, a series of unexpected images portraying skylines, sunsets, and breathtaking views from various walks and hikes across the country began to populate my text messages and direct messages. These “winks,” as my sister-cousin, Cheri, fondly refers to them, arrived at moments when I needed them most, infusing my spirit with an indescribable sense of peace. The timing of each image seemed almost uncannily perfect and served as gentle reminders of our connectedness to each other and everything all at once.

Music’s Impact

I don’t know how or why I keep forgetting the profound impact music has on my soul, perhaps it is so that each time I remember or rediscover its healing powers it comes adorned with a deeper sense of appreciation and gratitude. Sometimes, the music serves as a comforting distraction, offering solace and quieting my restless mind. At other times, it acts as a catalyst, evoking memories and unearthing suppressed emotions that yearn to find release. And then there are those poignant melodies and lyrics that seem to minister to my very essence, as if they were created solely for me, serving as reminders that I am not alone in my journey.

Whether it’s the tender embrace of lofi music in the hushed hours of the night, guiding me back to sleep, or the melodic rap from Norel’s carefully constructed compositions infusing my spirit with the vigor needed to face the day ahead, or even the sweet release found in singing along to my most cherished Apple music favorites, or the sense of hope and resilience that comes from a meticulously curated playlist created and shared with me by a colleague as his gesture of condolences, each musical encounter continues to play a pivotal role in navigating the labyrinth of my grief.

Affirmations & Self-Help

Although I’ve always understood the power of words and absolutely adored Gabrielle Union in Being Mary Jane and appreciated her habit of using daily affirmations on yellow sticky notes placed on her mirrors and throughout her space, aside from sharing and teaching through quotes, daily affirmations and self-help books were not really my cup of tea. Now I drink them both often.

A few days before Norel’s accident, for some reason, I decided to download a free trial of the “I Am” app. This app sends affirmations via text messages throughout the day, and one that has stuck with me is: “I can be strong and sad.” The messages are sometimes hit or miss, but for the most part, they feel like they are God-sent.

A week after Norel’s funeral, at the 11th hour I decided to join Billynda and Charlie, my sister and brother-in-love, on their planned getaway to a wellness resort in Arizona. During the flight there, I immersed myself in a book titled “Good Grief” by Granger E. Westberg, which had been gifted to me by Kelisa Wing (a social justice advocate and the first person of color to be named the state teacher of the year for the DoDEA). The book resonated with me so deeply that while on the plane, I began purchasing copies to gift to friends and loved ones who I knew were also grappling with different forms of grief. This act of sharing the book became a way for me to offer support and comfort to those navigating their own experiences of loss and sorrow. It also gave us a shared vocabulary and a reference point for our conversations when we felt like discussing or processing our grief.

Upon my return from the wellness resort in Arizona, I stumbled upon a package with my stack of mail containing a 365-day devotional titled “Jesus Always” by Sarah Young, which is all about embracing joy in His presence. Although I have yet to discover who sent it to me, the book perfectly aligns with the way I have been striving to live my life—a way that has been shaped by two profound philosophies imparted to me by my daughter, Jamee, (I’ll expound on that later) and one of my first cousins affectionately called NeeNee.

After the passing of Uncle John, I was struck by how NeeNee, his youngest daughter, coped with his transition. She often spoke of him with fondness and a smile on her face. (Meanwhile, I couldn’t ever figure out how to stop my tears from flowing and developing into a full fledged ugly cry.) When I inquired about her ability to do so, she simply stated, “I’ve trained my brain to only recall the joy and the good times.” This approach to memories and grief resonated deeply with me. And essentially the “I Am” affirmations, “Good Grief,” “Jesus Always,” and the discovery of grief poetry by Sara Rian are helping me to embrace joy and retrain my brain in the midst of this difficult time. One of my favorite poems by Sara Rian is a simple 7 line poem called “we are carried” that reads:

yesterday was a hard day.
and i missed you.
today was a good day.
and i missed you.
i don’t know what
tomorrow will bring.
but. i. will. miss. you.

Gratitude

Two or three months before Norel’s passing, my daughter shared with me her new “attitude of gratitude” philosophy. This revelation was shared while she was in the midst of apartment hunting in Atlanta. “Momma,” she said, “if things don’t work out and I can’t move yet, then I’ll be thankful for the extra time to spend at home with you all.” She went on to say that if she lost her job, she would appreciate the chance to learn and develop the skills she acquired there… if she drifted apart from certain friends, she would be grateful for the time they had together… and so on. I stood in awe of the beauty and wisdom of my twenty-two-year-old daughter, my JEM…our JameBame, and told Jamee that if she truly embraced this philosophy, she would lead a much happier and stress-free life. I was so impressed by her newfound outlook that I found myself quoting her and sharing it with friends and colleagues who were struggling with challenging situations or stressing out about the day to day things.

Without even consciously trying, this perspective became the filter through which I viewed Norel’s passing. After sharing an incredibly fulfilling 24 years with him, it was easy to recall aspects of his life and precious moments we shared that filled me with gratitude and happiness. These are the memories that I hold on to dearly and aim never to forget.

At family hour for Norel, a former colleague said to me, “You’re really freaking people out by responding to our messages when we offer condolences.” She said this because my Facebook posts have garnered a lot of responses and I have made a conscious effort to reply to (or at the very least like or heart) every comment or message sent in an attempt to express my appreciation for their thoughts and prayers for me. I can even distinctly remember momma encouraging me to put my phone down and saying “You don’t have to take calls or read and respond to messages”. But I read somewhere once that gratitude and anxiety…frustration…anger…and any other negative emotion…cannot exist at the same time. So while I understood the place that these comments were coming from, I also knew what saying or typing “thank you” over and over did for me.

To that point, one day many moons ago, I was out with my mother, and I noticed her smiling at and engaging with everyone we passed or encountered. This behavior was out of character for my mother, as both she and I tend to be more reserved, akin to the way Nikki Giovanni described herself in “Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project” as “polite but not necessarily friendly.” When I inquired about her actions, she quietly mentioned that she was trying to spread a little LoLo. LoLo, a first cousin who I was extremely close to, passed away in January of 2021, was one of the friendliest, most loving, and appreciative people I knew. She always wore a smile, showered people with compliments, made everyone feel seen, and even on her most challenging days, never uttered a complaint. Later in our conversation, my mother revealed that she now understood why LoLo behaved that way (smiling, speaking to everyone, always expressing gratitude) – not only did it uplift the recipient but it also heightened the sender’s own happiness.

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I once wrote a poem wherein I had a line that said, “since death likes to frequent my family…” grief and I have become intimately acquainted over the years. My first recollection of becoming tethered with grief when I was five or six years old and lost my father. With each new loss, and boy have there been many, I learn a little more about how to live and dance with sorrow.  It is my sincere hope that the specific gestures highlighted in this piece —having a proxy, recorder/documentarian, handler, saying their name, listening to and sharing stories, viewing pictures of nature and God’s wonders, listening to music, reading, and expressing gratitude— can serve as guiding lights for others navigating their own tumultuous terrain of loss. Whether it’s the comfort found in shared memories, the solace of nature’s embrace, or the healing power of music and literature, each gesture offers a glimpse of light in the darkness, reminding us that we are not alone on this journey. As I, as we, continue to honor Norel and cherish the moments of joy amidst the pain, we remain grateful for the dedicated caretakers and their invaluable impact on our healing process. We are also grateful for the many individuals who may not have been explicitly mentioned in this short piece, but who showed up in the best way they knew how. And we appreciate the countless others who desired to be there for us but, for various reasons, were unable to do so. Last but certainly not least, we are thankful for each and every person who kept us close in their thoughts and lifted us up in prayers. 

**Listed below is checklist of practical tips that contains additional gestures not mentioned specifically above.** 

Step Into My Office (SIMO)*: Practical Tips to Help the Grieving

by Stacey James McAdoo

(*SIMO is the mantra and brand that my son created and built. This title is paying homage to his work and legacy.)

In two previous Facebook posts, I shared sentence stems/prompts to use instead of asking “how are you doing” and offered a different perspective on “life being cut short”. Because of my early exposure to trauma and grief, I thought I knew how to show up for people when they needed me. However, many of the gestures shown to me during Norel’s death taught me that I still have more learning and growing to do. In the spirit of sharing, learning and growing together, listed below are some practical tips for people who are unsure of what to say or how to show up in meaningful ways for their friends, coworkers and family members who are grieving. This list is not exhaustive, but it is a great start. Many of the things listed are what personally helped me and/or are gestures that I wish I had received.

Friends and Coworkers

• Randomly send “thinking of you” emojis or photos/memes of things they might normally enjoy
• Curate and share a music playlist of songs they may enjoy
• Offer book, movies or mindless binge worthy recommendations
• Make/send personalized or custom gifts 
• Send/bring over toiletries and paper products
• Create a meal train and share the calendar/link so the bereaved know when and what foods to expect (establish a time for food to be brought and set up an ice chest outside that it can be placed in/on)
• Drop off ice, smoothies, nuts, snacks, and/or light food
• Offer to let people know what has happened so the bereaved doesn’t have to
• Set automated out-of-office email responses on their behalf
• Offer to cover shifts, projects or meetings
• Keep phone calls or visits brief unless you’re asked to stay longer (a 5 minute or less phone call and a 10 minute or so physical visit is more than long enough)
• Show empathy (“My heart breaks with you.”) vs sympathy (“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”)
• Don’t ask “how did they die” questions to the bereaved; just listen instead
• Follow the lead of the bereaved to see if it’s best to share memories about the deceased or if it’s best for you to talk about something else as a distraction
• Ask them to tell you how they would like for you to support them and what it is that they need or want
• Ask if it’s okay hold their hand and hug them

Close Friends and Family

Any of the above, plus any of the following:

• Don’t wait for an invitation or a specific ask, show up and just do or be
• Offer to clean, do laundry, run errands
• Create a shared photo album of the deceased that others can add photos to
• Serve as their proxy and fall/bad guy when necessary
• Record/document important things from conversations and meetings (ie with insurance company, work, funeral home, etc)
• Serve as their handler; help them create and maintain to-do lists and tasks
• Take them where they need to go
• Help them complete the paperwork, forms, and funeral arrangements (obituary, program, policies, etc)
• Say their loved one’s name
• Help, encourage or engage in activities with them that help reduce stress (walking, getting fresh air, going for a ride, watching a movie, etc)
• Be willing to sit in silence or witness uncomfortable wailing
• Help ensure that they are still handling their own business (taking care of the remaining family and themselves – physically, emotionally and financially)
• Write out or address thank you cards for them
• Offer to take over some of their regular duties (pick up kids, water plants, feed/walk dogs, get medicine from pharmacy, etc)
• Read up on grief so you can understand the grieving process, identify the various stages and know the warning signs of when it’s time to bring in additional help 
• Help them identify/prepare a list of resources and contacts (support group, therapist, spiritual leader, etc)
• Offer to help them make contact with subscriptions, bill collectors , etc.of the deceased to close out accounts
• Help them develop a plan of what to do with their loved ones’ personal belongings and when the time comes, help them sort through and pack up said items
• Provide ongoing support and continue to check in/up on the bereaved long after the funeral or FMLA/bereavement leave has ended

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Stacey McAdoo is the 2019 Arkansas Teacher of the Year and has twenty plus years of classroom experience advocating for traditionally underrepresented students. The award-winning Arkansas PBS docuseries Closing the Opportunity Gap and course Coaching Self Expression: Go-In Poet provide an intimate look at her relationship-based approach to nurturing students. As the founder of the Writeous Poets (a spoken word and youth advocacy collective) and a professional development facilitator, she designs and leads sessions that focus on arts integration, empowering student and teacher voice, and promoting equity and the success of diverse learners. She is also the host of A Mile In My Shoes: The Walk & Talk Podcast, the Executive Director for Teach Plus Arkansas where she runs a policy fellowship for teachers that she helps elevate teacher voice and empowers teacher leaders to advocate for policy changes at all levels of the education system and a professor with Reach University where she teaches aspiring educators.