At the end of February, my oldest son lost his grandmother. It was a call I always knew that would someday come, but when it happened, it landed deeper than I expected. His grandmother filled in the gaps as a mother figure in the moments when I was not there. His grief was overwhelming, and he could barely breathe. That phone call has left a mark on my soul. So, when he said, “Mom, I need your support,” I immediately started to make plans to be there with him.

Traveling for a death is never easy, but then you add on top of it the Nor’easter that was heading that way, and the uncomfortable dynamics between his father and me. We haven’t spoken in years, and we never saw eye to eye. His dad is the opposite of my communication style, and back then, I didn’t have the knowledge or tools that I have now.

The thought of going to his mother’s funeral, seeing not only him but his entire family while grieving, made me very uncomfortable, and I wanted to flee. And looking at it from his perspective, he was grieving the loss of his mother, and I am sure having me around wasn’t something that was high on his list either. It literally was a perfect storm. But what we both did was focus on what was most important: supporting our son, even if it meant we both had to be with our discomfort.

As uncomfortable as it was to be there, I would not trade it for anything. Although I am still processing, I can tell you it was one of the most healing things I have ever done. I showed my respect to his father, his family, and his grandmother for the role she played in raising my son. I got to support my son by just being there whenever he needed me. I had tough, honest, healing conversations with him.

The experience and the conversations allowed me to revisit my past with a whole new perspective. Maybe not everything back then was as it appeared. I could see the younger, scared version of myself, and I could see it in his dad, too. I can now relate to the saying “Youth is wasted on the young.” For the first time, I could see his dad with compassion. We both handled the situation with the tools and emotional maturity we had at the time, but one thing that has never changed between us is that we both did what we thought was best for our son; this time, it happened to align.

Regardless of someone’s communication style, when we focus on what we have in common that matters most, we find a way to make the impossible possible. I don’t believe “time heals all wounds.” I believe time gives us the space to release the emotions around the wound, which then allows us to zoom out and revisit it from a different perspective, especially if we have gained tools and knowledge. It is the very reason why I coach people not to have conversations when we are emotionally charged. It blurs our perspective. Time gifts us with clarity.

In organizations, common ground could be the company’s mission and vision, which can bring the team together. And in our personal lives, maybe like my situation, it is a loved one, or maybe it is that disagreement with your neighbor; the intersection is living in peace and safety.

What matters most to you when everything else feels uncomfortable? Is there an opportunity for you to be with your discomfort to serve a higher purpose? Can you look back on something with your growth and see it from a new perspective now?