This week feels like a good opportunity to pause and meditate on loss.

Last week I responded to a disappointed reader whose retirement was largely overlooked by colleagues who were presumably distracted by trying to function during a pandemic.

It’s true, that reader’s loss was minor in comparison to what many are experiencing. But it’s also about something deeper than a foregone cake or plaque. The celebration of retirement places a capstone on a lifetime of effort, connections and service, a monument to show that it all mattered. Without that monument, the effort feels forgotten, lost to history.

For some workers, the coronavirus pandemic has preempted their entire end-of-credits sail into the sunset. With furloughs and layoffs cutting wide swaths through the workforce, an uncertain recovery timeline and a job market already saturated with age bias, many workers near the end of their careers have essentially been made involuntary retirees. As with newlyweds and graduates, their major life event — for many, the last milestone of their careers — has been swamped by a rising tide of grief, fear and unrest.

The following letter, reproduced with minimal editing, is a poignant account of one such abrupt ending:

“I scrolled your article Sunday at 5:25 a.m., my standard wake-up time since 1999 when I returned to the workforce after a seven-year hiatus to raise my young daughters. Minus those seven years, I’ve held a job every year of my life since I was 12. I’m 63. I like to work. I always have. I like the ritual. The smell of the coffee brewing, the familiar sounds of my ‘Morning Joe’ friends, calibrating the time it takes to put my makeup on, pour the second cup of coffee, start the car for the four-minute drive to the Goldens Bridge train station to catch the 6:57 into Manhattan. But mostly, I like to work. I held a unique position in HR in learning and development for a young, successful cosmetics company. I spent most days onboarding new hires, product training, coaching young leaders, mentoring or hosting office events. Bringing people together was my ‘thing’ and often came with a hug.


“On Friday, March 13, the New York metro area shut down with shelter-in-place orders from Gov. Andrew Cuomo in response to the coronavirus pandemic. On April 16 I was furloughed. On May 26 I got my first unemployment check.

“I had not planned on retiring. I loved my work. Retail has taken a devastating blow, and furloughs impacted all departments. I am realistic and doubtful I’ll be called back. If they call, I’ll be there.

“I still wake up at 5:25 a.m. Brew the coffee. Watch ‘Morning Joe.’ No makeup. I hear the 6:57 train whistle in the distance and think of the sweet-faced conductor who always met my gaze. How are all of my fellow commuters on the platform doing? How are my friends and colleagues coping? Do they know how much I miss them? My work wasn’t finished. We didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

“My new ritual includes a 9 a.m. three-mile walk and consuming news. I cry daily for the lives lost and for all those families and loved ones that didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.” — Laura Filancia, Goldens Bridge, New York

My continued sympathy to all who are suffering losses, great and small, personal and professional. Let’s all keep our eyes on the horizon and keep each other afloat until the day when celebrations will once again be possible.

Karla L. Miller offers advice on surviving the ups and downs of the modern workplace. (Courtesy of The Washington Post)
Karla L. Miller offers advice on surviving the ups and downs of the modern workplace. (Courtesy of The Washington Post)