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Wednesday, February 22, 2012
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Amy Florian, MA, Fellow of Thanatology
The Story of How My Company Came To Be
An icy road. A no-fault death. The driver of the other car wondering
what, if anything, he could have done to avoid the accident. In the blink of an eye I was a 25-year old widow. I was surrounded by
dozens, even hundreds, of well-intentioned people who had absolutely no idea what to say or how to act around me.
John’s death was
devastating. We loved as deeply as two young people could. We’d already survived two miscarriages and had just purchased our first home. Our son
Carl was 7 months old when his dad died. Though I did not know it at the time, John’s death began my lifelong mission of helping people heal from
life’s crushing losses.
The journey took me first down the path of facing the rest of my life without John. Even now, 30 years later,
that phrase sometimes brings forth a heartfelt sigh as I remember the joy of my life with John and the deep sorrow I experienced when he died.
Healing from grief does not mean forgetting; once you have loved deeply, that person remains a part of you forever.
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I was determined to heal for myself and for Carl. I did not want to
spend the rest of my life feeling the searing pain of grief. There were
few resources in my tiny town of Dyersville, Iowa, so I did what seemed
right – I read everything I could find. I kept a journal. I wrote about
my experiences. I relied on my faith. I actively remembered. I made
repeated "trips" through the years of my love for John. These “trips”
included physically revisiting the places that we loved to go, cooking
the same meals we had both enjoyed, and continuing to engage alone in
what had been shared pastimes. One of the most painful and yet most
healing activities was continuing to deliver the marriage preparation
class that John and I once gave together.
Years passed. The
"trips" lost their power to bring deep sadness. Healing came slowly but
come it did, and I got joyfully re-married to Ken. Not long after Ken
and I were married, I began giving workshops on grief and published
articles based on my experience.
In the next major part of the
trip I became the long-time leader of a widowed support group. It was
during this time that I began to refine my support skills as I listened
to the life stories of hundreds of people whose spouse had died. I
taught them what I had learned, I cried with them, and I encouraged
them. I was fortunate to be a companion on the path with so many good
people who wanted what all people want when a loved one dies…to remember
faithfully and happily…to grieve fully…and eventually to be joyful
again.
Though my bookshelf was already sagging under the weight
of every manner of book on grief and bereavement, I hungered for more
knowledge. I earned a Masters Degree in Pastoral Studies from Loyola
University of Chicago and a Fellow in Thanatology certification from the
Association for Death Education and Counseling. “Thanatology”. Unusual
word, I know. It means the study of death and dying. I continued to
publish, and was increasingly asked to give both training sessions and
faith-based reflection days. My work expanded into teaching when I was
hired as an adjunct professor at several universities in the Chicago
area.
The newest chapter of my journey was the launch of my
training company Corgenius in 2008. Our tag-line is “adding heart to the
brains of business”. As you've seen on the rest of the site, Corgenius
specializes in teaching people how to support and interact with a person
who is grieving a life-changing loss.
When John died, I needed to
trust many service providers. Some mumbled platitudes and handed me a
tissue before quickly moving to the comfort zone of business. Others
ignored the death altogether. In almost every case, their awkwardness
around me was excruciating for both of us, and I came away feeling like
little more than a number in their contact list. If they'd known how to
behave then, would I be a loyal customer these 25 years later? Yes. One
service provider did retain my business. His uncommon insight and
straightforward empathy, earned my trust and he's earned fair profit
from me ever since.
Corgenius focuses on training people in the
healthcare to financial services professions. The company’s training
modules range from two hour to full-day sessions and take a secular,
“grief happens to everyone” approach. I know how difficult these topics
are for everyone so I incorporate healthy humor. I’ve been told by my
students that the atmosphere is “refreshing and non-threatening”. That’s
an especially gratifying statement when facing a complex and emotional
subject. |
With this knowledge, no one needs to intentionally let a call from a
grieving person go to voicemail. No one needs to avoid wakes or be
reluctant to ask a grieving person "How are you?" for fear they will
actually tell. No one needs to wonder what to say a month or six months
or a year after the death. As one financial broker-dealer said, "I can't
think of any business where this knowledge doesn't apply."
I am
idealistic. Painful loss happens to everyone’s clients or patients. When
it does, professionals who know how to respond will distinguish
themselves and their firm. At the same time, they learn something that
helps them in their personal and family lives. It is my greatest hope
that everyone in our society learns how to deal with grief, illness, and
death, and Corgenius is one way to help make that happen.
Attend
one of my public training sessions or hire me to give a keynote address
or private workshop to your company. Other than your own
uncomfortableness, what have you got to lose? |
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