A cancer widow's tale: When words fall short but LOVE doesn't.

Lament, sorrow, pain. Sometimes we allow ourselves to go there, sit there, feel it. Other times it presses in like a vice grip on our brains. Yesterday, was a vice grip day as I was standing in the kitchen. My mind uncontrollably reeling, revisiting all kinds of thoughts. Honestly, considering conversations that never were. A new reality of deep grief was forming due to a lack of conversation.

Why didn't Dave talk to me about it?

Why didn't he give me advice, permission, his wishes, and why didn't he give me a goodbye letter. He gave each of our kids one. Why not me? 

And as for me....

Why didn't I scream at cancer in his face?

Why didn't I cry out in front of him that I didn't want him to leave me?

Why didn't I beg for him to tell me everything my ears and heart so badly wanted to hear from him? WHY????? 

I was asking God this yesterday in my extremely vulnerable state. I had been on the verge of tears (or full-out bawling) the entire day. 

As I was standing in the kitchen facing the cupboards, for who knows how long, mind sloshing away in the grief sludge. Why?   … and God, clear as DAY, told me "That was you LOVING HIM WELL. That was you loving him in the most sacrificial form there is."  You see, I needed SO MUCH MORE. I needed words, I needed to hear his heart for me. I needed him to tell me I was going to be okay. I needed him to tell me everything he wanted me to do and to say with the kids from here on out. I got none of it, not one word. What I did get was a simple look of content, over + over again.

Decades of marriage with him proved I could easily have forced him to talk to me.... so why didn't I? Why did I sit there in a state of quiet and calm when in truth I so desperately longed for words. Because I LOVED HIM so DESPERATELY. I didn't press or demand... I sat in his process with him. I allowed him to do it his way. No, WE did it his way together. I followed his lead, and he held tight to his HOPE. 

So many tell me they can't believe the tremendous faith we had through it all. Yes, we did. But I think perhaps they are confusing what they witnessed as faith when in reality a lot of it was Dave’s positive mindset, and perhaps even a touch of denial. They think because we didn't post about the struggle, fears, and appearance of a gloomy outcome that we believed 100% he would be healed. I don't think any of us stood on that ground, but hope was always on the fringes. My husband was few on words but the ones he did choose to speak were full of life, hope, and days to come. Any others were unspoken.

Everything in my nature would have screamed for answers, and real talk, but somehow in the thick of our 14 month long chaos of chemo, radiation and unsuccessful bone marrow transplant, God gave me a supernatural ability to die to self. I am so grateful for that now. We did did it our way, we did our best, we loved well. Sometimes love looks like action, and sometimes love looks like quiet. Real words may have fallen short but love was more than evident in the chosen QUIET. 

When words fall short but LOVE doesn’t.

Trauma Permanently Changes Us

Trauma. It wasn’t a word I would have thought I would be using with such a common type of death as cancer. However, when you sit with your person, and go through the treatments, and watch them suffer, and eventually die… well, it is indeed traumatic.

As the days go by, and some of the memories choose to resurface, you know… the kind where you are back in that room again, with all the sights, sounds and smells. It is then that your heart begins to race, and your eyes leak at the gut punch of reality. Your brain wants to turn it off quickly while clinging to it at the same time. This is because for a brief moment your mind would almost choose to be there (even knowing the outcome) versus sitting in this empty void you have been left with. The uncomfortable space between yes, this is my new reality and no, I don’t want to do this. I am sitting here telling you no one wants to do this.

The gut punch ache never leaves, even though your brain is doing a pretty thorough job of trying to protect your shattered heart. But when the brain is triggered by God to let the walls drop a little… “It’s okay, she can handle that memory, drop that wall, let her remember.” And BAM it unexpectedly slaps you awake… it is right here in this space that you are beyond aware you, no doubt, have experienced trauma.

A lot of times I find myself wondering if I will ever be the same, and I have come to the conclusion that, no, no I won’t. Will I still have joy, yes. Will I continue to have moments where I laugh until I snort at the silliest of things? Yes. Will I be able to go a week without bawling? Maybe? Will life go on and will new life experiences be fulfilling. For sure. But still…

I found a lot of comfort in this article that I found by Catherine Woodiwiss: A New Normal: Ten Things I’ve Learned About Trauma. Here is an excerpt:

This is the big, scary truth about trauma:
there is no such thing as “getting over it.”
The five stages of grief model marks
universal stages in learning to accept loss,
but the reality is in fact much bigger:
a major life disruption leaves a new normal
in its wake. There is no “back to the old me.”
You are different now, full stop.

This is not a wholly negative thing.
Healing from trauma can also mean
finding new strength and joy.
The goal of healing is not a papering-over
of changes in an effort to preserve or
present things as normal. It is to acknowledge
and wear your new life — warts, wisdom and
all — with courage.

– Catherine Woodiwiss

I am different now. If you have experienced trauma, you are different now. It is okay. Don’t try to hurry your way back to an old state of norm to please the people around you. It won’t happen. Give yourself the gift of grace and patience as you discover your new life, day by day.

Cheers my friend, here is to a new life with warts, wisdom and all.

Be Well-

When the “ABOUT US” changes: dealing with loss

I’m sitting here, in Hawaii. Dreamy right? It stirs up all kinds of romantic notions, yes? However, romance is the last thing on my brain. I’m actually sitting here thinking about how on earth I got here.

Oh, I know that I arrived here on a plane with an airline ticket that I myself purchased. That isn’t what I am referring to. I am talking about how on earth did I end up a middle-aged woman, sitting (possibly wallowing),  in the thick of immense grief. 

GRIEF

GRIEF because 20 months ago my husband was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer.  

GRIEF because 12 months ago we found out it was tougher to fight than we thought. 

GRIEF because the next year would be filled to the brim with horrendous battle after exhaustingly unsuccessful battle. 

-GRIEF because six months ago he was SET FREE from the battle. 

But here is the unfortunate thing… I wasn’t. My kids weren’t excused either. The memories still swirl in our brains, poke at our hearts and physically shake us at times. We so wanted a different outcome. We wanted a victory story that would have us all on our feet dancing, singing praises of “Only God could do that.” as we grabbed Dave’s hands and raised them high in adoration. 

As deep as our longings were, as heartfelt as our prayers could have been, that wouldn’t be the conclusion to Dave’s story.

Our “ABOUT US” has changed and it is not what we would have chosen.

I brought my computer with me on this trip because God has made it evidently clear that he has some work for me to do. (I’ll get to that in a future post.) But this is the deal for now… I needed to update this website, and I needed to start with the about page. AND I hate that I am sitting here having to do this. That battlecry part of the story is over and now…. yeah, now what? What the heck am I about? As I go down the list of what used to be there are a lot of boxes to check of “not anymore’s”  - so then what is left? What is going to be? I don’t even know.

I do know one thing: the cancer battle for Dave is over which means the battle of making the memories serve us well is in full force. The battle of choosing to keep going and staying strong. The battle of fulfilling what God has in mind for us to do. YES. Every single day will reveal to us what that looks like. Our job isn’t to think too far out and become overwhelmed, our job is to be present with listening ears and a willing heart… no matter the cost.

God, help us to not waste a morsel of what you intend to use in us and through us. Help us to feel, to process, to pray, to grow closer to you in the thick of it all. Carry us through what we can’t muster the strength to trek on our own. 

I am posting below our old “ABOUT” contents because I don’t want to erase the past journey, I want to embrace it, hold it dear and use it to launch forward. 

(About page 2018/19”

“THE JOURNEY SO FAR

I was talking with my husband the other day about this life we have lived together. Battling cancer as a family has a way of walking you through the years and almost demanding you reflect on your story. Are the pages filled with all that matters? What chapters did we miss? Any we would choose to rewrite? Looking back I would say we have lived a fairly BIG life in our recently turned 50 years. I imagine the rising action and climax in our current storyline would be something people would dream about  happening at some point in their lifetime.

The pages of this website will be riddled with some of the stories of our glorious adventures with family, lake life, racing boats and cars, camping, taking teams to Tanzania and Kenya, partnering with a school in Kibera Slum, working alongside programs in Tanzania that help widows, orphans and young single mamas, starting a nonprofit, overcoming debilitating pain and more. Those are the peaks. Then there are the valleys of abandonment, abuse, anxiety, cancer, a stillborn baby, the division of a family business. The beauty in all of this is the good comes with a natural sparkle but the hard places… they have the ability to shine when you find the beauty in the pain. It’s always there just waiting to be picked up, dusted off and held high. 

My personal story is packed full with this type of rescuing. So, so many stories of being redeemed from the muck and mire covered in the thick weight of my earned distress. When that kind of grace and mercy show up in your life you are pretty eager to sprinkle it around like confetti. 

I hope you find the encouragement and help you are looking for here. We will be posting our upcoming workshops, simple DIY projects, devotions, keto recipes, and random musings along the way. “

Heart + Mind Work