Daryl Wood's Blog

Much has been written about the way life changes for people who lose someone they love, someone they are deeply connected to such as my beloved Doug. I’ve read stories about how people suffered and survived and reshaped their lives but the lens I look through now is so different. When a friend’s husband died five years ago I gave her Sheryl Sandberg’s book Option B. I had read it with intrigue and loved the messages that she and Adam Grant shared using my typical sticky notes to mark meaningful passages. I especially like the concept that ‘things could always be worse’ and it played well into how I taught TED* (The Empowerment Dynamic) and coached people. And then my dear Doug died and I began the journey of wondering how could things have been worse.

And as hard as it was to wrap my head around, honestly they could have been much worse. For sure. What I gleaned from that book and the wonderful books by Dr. Alan Wolfelt of The Center for Loss and Life Transition was that things change. Change is inevitable. It’s so obvious to me that every aspect of my life has been upended and trying to find ‘normal’ isn’t possible when the foundation, the north star, the grounding place of my life is missing. Impermanence is so basic to Buddhism and a concept I work at embracing on a daily basis.

And then there is the collateral damage of relationships. I don’t know how to be with people anymore and lots of them don’t know how to be with me. I’m not behaving, acting, talking, thinking or showing up the same way I did before. There are glimmers of the old me and people jump on that right away as if to grasp something stable in an unstable situation. But when I am not the accepting, available, supportive woman they knew, it is so hard for them to keep up the relationship we had. I’m still a work in progress and who knows, maybe they will like me better when I show up in a new way.

I still have all the wisdom and experience I had before but now it has been reorganized into different parts of my heart and mind. Sometimes I can’t retrieve what I counted on to cope with life on a routine day. And, surprisingly, I am not willing to have as many conversations with the multitude of amazing people that populated my life. I stopped working when Doug became seriously ill and other than random exchanges I have ultimately retired from a career I loved. Along with that, is the loss of the people I shared so much growth and learning with. We had something so satisfying.

I started 2025 rebuilding with a shift into hope and possibility. I was on my way to discovering who I am and how I would use these precious days of my life. And then, after weeks of desperate phone calls and increasing illness, my older brother died on February 10. A new round of grief descended on me and I’m still not sure I have fully understood what happened. It was intense. Grief is intense.

And there is more collateral damage. More relationships that fell apart and others that are just now falling apart these 20 months on.

And to be clear, there are more relationships that emerged and strengthened and flourished. More relationships that brought joy, comfort, enthusiasm and opportunity. While the collateral damage is evident there is also collateral improvement. The goodness that can come from grief can be missed in the despair of loss. I’m not sure anything can replace what I had with my beloved Doug and yet I can’t overlook the extraordinary kindness and meaningful relationships that now fill my life every day.