Badass Grief: Changing Gears, Moving Forward

By Jennifer E. Hassel

Badass Grief is for those who want to translate grief into action or live a bigger, braver life by reaching beyond self-imposed limitations.

When she looked for ways to remember her dead husband, Jennifer found suggestions to buy somethin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Koehler Books
• Release date: Mar 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798888242667

Jennifer E. Hassel

Jennifer E. Hassel was a lawyer who became a registered nurse after living through her husband's terminal illness, their mutual suffering, and her own grief. Writing from firsthand experience, she has been published in The Philadelphia Lawyer, Joyful Life Magazine, The Sun, and her hometown newspaper, Lancaster LNP. She won her nursing school graduating class's Portfolio Award for her series of essays relating to the profession and practice of nursing. Badass Grief is her first book.

Book preview

Praise For

BADASS

GRIEF

"Anyone who has experienced loss, a significant life event, or a turning point should read Badass Grief. It’s poignantly written yet also exemplifies how one can draw strength and overcome the most grievous circumstances by facing fear head-on. Jennifer Hassel has delivered a truly inspiring book that will serve as a useful resource for anyone who wants to know how to navigate in uncharted waters."

—Sandra L. Stosz, Vice Admiral, US Coast Guard (Ret.), and Author of Breaking Ice & Breaking Glass: Leading in Uncharted Waters

"Badass Grief is a heartfelt story of rising past adversity with purposeful courage in the midst of unspeakable and unexpected loss. Hassel’s authentic journey demonstrates the complicated link between mourning and moving forward. It invigorates and inspires. A wonderful read!"

—Joanne P. McCallie, Former Duke University Women’s Basketball Team Head Coach, and Author of Secret Warrior: A Coach and Fighter, On and Off the Court

Wherever you are on your journey, Jennifer Hassel is here to help you find the courage and strength you need to take your next step.

—Holley Gerth, Wall Street Journal Best-Selling Author, Creator of the Heal After You’re Hurt course

"Badass Grief is a riveting account of Jennifer Hassel’s climb—sometimes quite literally—from the heartbreak of early widowhood to a purposeful ‘second act.’ Readers will find inspiration on every courageously written page."

—Judy Gruen, Author of Bylines and Blessings: Overcoming Obstacles, Striving for Excellence, and Redefining Success

"Badass Grief will be a gift to anyone who has experienced the loss of a spouse and is wondering how they will go on. With heart and humor, Jennifer Hassel recounts how she revived her own life through a series of incredible challenges designed to honor her husband’s philosophy to ‘live fully.’ While few widows might choose to bear their grief through completing feats like a 100-mile bike race or heli-skiing, everyone will be inspired by her adventures. Jennifer’s writing is as strong as her resolve to honor her husband’s life, and you will be captivated both by her words and her spirit."

—Kathy Izard, Author of The Hundred Story Home, The Last Ordinary Hour, and Trust the Whisper

"Badass Grief embeds in your heart from the start, steadily bringing tears and laughter, as we join Jennifer Hassel on an extraordinary ride from devastating loss to reinvention and emotional transformation. Setting out to honor the spirit and drive of her late husband, Jennifer challenges herself with headshaking endeavors outside her comfort zone, from helicopter powder skiing, a century bike race, and a tri-fitness competition to volunteering in a homeless shelter and traveling to Peru to devote herself to missionary work. Especially for those who have experienced loss, her courageous journey is chock-full of uncommon hope and inspirational rejuvenation."

—Nancy Pickard, Author of Bigger Better Braver: Conquer Your Fears, Embrace Your Courage, and Transform Your Life

This inspiring memoir tells the story of challenges faced and obstacles overcome, but it does more than that; the author’s story gives us an inside view of her varied experiences—from working with the homeless to tackling a CMH heli-skiing adventure. Jennifer shares with us both the painful and laugh-out-loud funny moments we can encounter in loss. Honest and vulnerable, this is a book worth reading.

—Rob Rohn, President and COO of CMH Heli-Skiing & Summer Adventures

"Badass Grief is a powerful testament to resilience, self-agency, and love. In the beginning, Jennifer Hassel survives the death of her young husband through sheer will and commitment to the daily chores of life, including raising three teenagers on her own. Her ultimate survival and rebirth, however, lead her to embrace both physical and emotional challenges willingly. At first she confronts these challenges in memory of her husband and their life together. Ultimately, she realizes that taking on these adventures recreate a brave individual content in herself. This is a courageous and moving book."

—R. Barbara Gitenstein, President Emerita, the College of New Jersey, Author of Experience Is the Angled Road: Memoir of an Academic

An uplifting tribute to a beloved young doctor lost to cancer. Guided by courage and perseverance, Jennifer Hassel finds a unique way to ensure that her husband’s memory will not be forgotten. A terrific, inspiring story!

—David M. Zacks, Esq., Past National Chair of the American Cancer Society

Badass Grief:

Changing Gears, Moving Forward

By Jennifer E. Hassel

© Copyright 2024 Jennifer E. Hassel

ISBN 979-8-88824-266-7

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

Published by

3705 Shore Drive

Virginia Beach, VA 23455

800-435-4811

www.koehlerbooks.com

logo1

For Mark, who taught me how to face my fears.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

CHAPTER 1:

What am I doing, and how did life lead me here?

CHAPTER 2:

Can I find a suitable way to honor Mark’s legacy?

CHAPTER 3: 28

Can I do a good enough job as a single mom while struggling with my own grief?

CHAPTER 4:

Do I have the courage to embrace what is strong and beautiful within me?

CHAPTER 5:

Can I take my own physical pain and use it in honor of Mark and in recognition of what he endured?

CHAPTER 6:

Can I gain perspective on my grief through hearing and seeing firsthand the problems of those who have no home?

CHAPTER 7:

Can I find a framework for my life by going back to school and becoming a nurse?

CHAPTER 8:

Can I make a difference, and if so, how?

CHAPTER 9:

Do I want to be fully alive despite ongoing grief?

Photos

CHAPTER 10:

Can I find my voice to tell my story?

CHAPTER 11:

Is another man necessary to fill the hole left by my husband’s death?

CHAPTER 12:

Can I accept my mental and physical limitations with humility rather than as humiliation?

CHAPTER 13:

Can I truly love again?

EPILOGUE:

Can I inspire others with my story?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Anyone who sets out to write about what she experienced is faced with memory limitations. I am no different. I’ve tried to be a credible narrator but realize that others who participated in these events may remember things differently. What I’ve written tells the story from my perspective and is based on what I wrote in my journal or what I recall. May the reader grant grace to me and the other humans I encountered. Our priorities and emotions, then and now, obviously filtered the process of determining what we saw and, as a result, what we concluded. For the record, the chronology of events is faithful to what happened, although one challenge I repeated twice was condensed to appear as a single episode.

In writing this story, I’m making the following argument. Remembering and taking action to honor the spirit of someone you love carries his or her memory forward while helping you reclaim life and become a better version of yourself. Let me explain. Among his many qualities, my husband Mark liked to live with gusto. In deciding to remember him through concrete action, I chose to look for ways to say yes to experiences that stretched me. This book is about a few of the exploits I completed in Mark’s memory and the life lessons I learned through doing them. I recognize that two of these adventures required the type of resources not many people have. That may be off-putting to some readers. Yet the concept I’m attempting to share is not one that requires money. Living out a legacy is something that almost anyone can do. Basically, you think of any admirable quality of your loved one and then decide on a way to show that quality in your own life. For example, anyone can choose to adopt traits like thoughtfulness, curiosity, compassion, humor, or kindness in their loved one’s memory. In whatever way seems fitting under the circumstances, I hope others will adopt the idea of a legacy challenge to remember and live out the spirit of their own loved one.

CHAPTER 1

What am I doing, and how did life

lead me here?

THE MOUNTAINS ARE CALLING

Outfitted with an avalanche transceiver, emergency gear, and a two-way radio, I pushed my shoulder into the thick wooden door to step into an overcast January morning. Earlier that week, Arctic winds spilled through gaps in the Northern Canadian Rockies, resulting in temperatures below zero degrees Fahrenheit at Bugaboo Lodge, several hours west of Banff. I leaned into the cold, digging the heels of my ski boots into the narrow, snow-shoveled path to keep from slipping. The helipad was a short walk away. When I arrived, two guides were already piling skis in parallel heaps. The Bell 212 transport helicopter, which would serve as our personal ski lift, would appear soon.

Joining a group of nine other vacationers, I made small talk, trying to tamp down my rising fear. When I’d signed up to go on a heli-skiing trip, the representative assured me it was the beginner group, I’d be in good hands, and this adventure was within my abilities as an intermediate skier. I wanted to believe her.

Judging from the noisy laughter and fake punches, the others seemed in high spirits. And why not? Thoughts of descending through the pristine forests of British Columbia on virgin powder was a skier’s dream. They looked forward to being dropped off in waist-deep powder at the top of a 10,000-foot granite plateau in the middle of untouched wilderness. An international camaraderie had already begun to form among those who had arrived from Korea, Belgium, Germany, and the United States the previous day, everyone drawn like iron to magnets for this singular experience. I wanted to be part of it all but felt doubt constrict my chest, as if tiny veins of ice were growing from my spine and encircling my ribs. Just a few feet away from a group of people who seemed so happy, I felt momentarily alone.

To distract myself, I stared at the peaks of the Bugaboo Range, which huddled around us on three sides. The line showing where the snow-jacketed mountains ended and the wispy white sky began was difficult to discern. Both were the color of a dove’s wings.

Your first time in Canada, eh?

I turned my head toward the skier who spoke to me, his face hidden beneath a helmet, sunglasses, and neck gaiter. I heard the smile in his greeting and responded with one of my own. We introduced ourselves. He had flown in from South Korea with his wife, her sister, and a few friends. More introductions.

Meanwhile, two other European skiers continued to poke fun at the Canadian colloquialism, their French accents adding to the joke as mock questions shot back and forth, each ending with eh? A few snowballs were tossed playfully. The more earnest began doing warm-up stretches. Taking it all in, I remembered why I was there, grinning as I thought about my friends back home teasing me that I was a Bond girl for going on this trip. I gave myself a brief pep talk. You got this. It’s going to be great.

We heard the helicopter before we could see it, the distinct rotor sound causing everyone’s eyes to turn. The throbbing buzz grew louder. In short order, one of the guides shouted, Heli huddle! and pointed to where our group was to squat down, close together, knees in the snow. We complied as instructed, then immediately braced ourselves against the swirl of backwashed air as the copter’s skids touched down precisely six feet away.

Once the pilot gave a thumbs-up, the closest skier partially stood and reached to pull down on the handle. The metal door slid back with a bang, and one by one, we hurried to cram into the cabin and slide across the webbed benches that faced each other. Since there was just two feet of space in the middle, we quickly figured out how to angle our knees so we could all fit. Meanwhile, the guides loaded our ski equipment into a caged basket attached to the landing skid on the opposite side. Two minutes later, strapped in and shoulder to shoulder with the others, I felt the sensation of the lift, the steep bank as the pilot turned up the valley, and the ascension over the mountains. The exhilaration of this long-awaited day was finally settling in. A fellow skier handed me his cell phone. Take our picture! he shouted, trying to be heard. He leaned toward his buddy and posed with two thumbs up.

I fumbled with my ski gloves but took a few shots before returning the phone. Excitement and trepidation merged as I looked out the window. Cliffs, snow-crusted trees, and steep ravines rushed past. In a few minutes, the helicopter would touch down on a mountaintop almost two miles above sea level, just long enough for us to jump out. Then, the true adventure would begin.

A BADASS WOLVERINE

After dumping its human cargo, the pilot waited for our guide to give the hand signal indicating he was clear to take off. I watched the belly of the helicopter recede and heard the sound of the retreating rotor blades grow fainter until, eventually, all was silent. Except for each other, we were alone, miles from the lodge or any other hint of civilization. At this point, skiing down was my only option, but what I saw was breathtaking for the wrong reasons.

Two years had passed since I’d last been on skis, so I wanted this first run to be easy. In my mind, I’d envisioned zigzagging across wide-open slopes pillowed with deep, fluffy expanses of snow while I got reacclimated to skiing and learned to make turns through powder, which feels quite different from navigating groomers in Colorado. In actuality, our first run involved a steep drop-off into groves thick with spruce and hemlock, their branches stretched out treacherously. Looking down the mountain, I had several concerns—the powder was thigh-high, it was difficult to maintain my balance on the fat skis attached to my boots, I had arthritic knees, and we were going to be in trees. Trees!

One of the guides pointed the way with his ski pole and started down, creating a path for the first skiers to follow. Despite my apprehension, I pushed off and began a barely controlled descent.

Though you often hear how certain things are like riding a bicycle, meaning that you don’t forget how to do them, that isn’t exactly true. After just three awkward turns, I had my first fall. How embarrassing. I struggled back up, cleaned the snow from my goggles, and immediately took off again, not wanting to display my fear. Not long thereafter, I attempted to avoid a scraggly pine barely three feet tall, made the mistake of looking at it, and, as a result, crashed straight into the trunk. I tripped and did a faceplant in deep snow, unable to move because my legs were buried behind me at a steep angle. Mercifully, the rest of the group was ahead, so they missed my clumsy cartwheel. A guide immediately appeared at my side, dug out both my skis, and helped me clip back into them.

I’m going to make you earn your keep today, I said, trying to cover my humiliation at having fallen twice in the first few minutes.

He made light of my incompetence. Actually, I’m lucky. How many guys get paid to pick up women?

Despite his smile, I couldn’t help but observe that no one in the group seemed to be having this much trouble. Another guide noticed it, too. She skied over to where we stood and introduced herself.

I’m Kathy. Let me help you.

Seeing that I was in capable hands, the first guide left to catch up with everyone else. Kathy and I were alone.

The main issue is that your fear is causing you to lean back, she said, summarizing the stance many of us take when we’re afraid of something. Let’s just take a moment.

The tone of her voice was kind, and I felt relieved. Kathy’s willingness to give me time to collect myself allowed me to stop hurrying. I’d felt pressure to keep up with the group, not wanting to be the slowest, the one everyone else had to wait for. This inner tension,