When Grief Interrupts…
Just under 2 months ago, I had just picked up my wife in front of her counseling center to go to lunch together when she received a phone call from a radiologist sharing the horrible news. “You have cancer.”
Since that moment, she’s endured 24 doctor appointments and a bilateral mastectomy. For a while, every doctor appointment seemed to give us worse news and it felt like the bottom was falling out of our lives together. At one point, through sobs, Karrie said, “I don’t want this to be the end of my story.”
Right now, the long-term prognosis is good. But there are more testings, screenings, and treatments to navigate. The road ahead is long for Karrie. There have been waves of grief and fear. And even in the bright moments, only what I can describe as a constant, deep ache of sadness. The last couple of months have been the hardest of my life. Along with navigating the emotional realization of cancer, there’s been the physical toll of being caretaker of the love of my life. It’s a unique, mentally and physically exhausting experience. The duality of thankfulness, that I get to be the one who cares for her and attend to her needs with the pain of feeling helpless to alleviate the pain and the fear about the future.
Every morning I wake up, the grief seems fresh. In the span of 8 hours of sleep, I get a reprieve from the sadness and for a few seconds each morning, I feel my normal excitement to start the day, drink coffee, enjoy the month of May in Indianapolis (one of the best times of year) and the month of June (school’s out and we get a lot of family time), but then I remember the dark reality of cancer’s grip on my favorite person in the world.
The entire experience has been surreal in the most haunting of ways.
The grief experience isn’t new to me. I’ve also struggled internally, with depression and doubt. I’ve helped others navigate the spiritual wilderness, “dark night of the soul”, and the gnawing spiritual and emotional questions and wanderings that stick deep in the human soul.
Over the past 15 years, I’ve encountered tragedy, loss, and painful experiences. Being a pastor and one that is drawn to people on the margins, I told my counselor yesterday that I feel like a bathtub that’s holding the pain of so many people and experiences from the past 15-20 years and that occasionally, I can pull the plug and let God drain some of it out of me, but the faucet just seems to stay on with fresh pain being poured into my life.
I told him Karrie has always been my refuge. For years, stepping into our home with her and my boys has felt like a safe haven for me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. If you know Karrie, you know she’s a source of unconditional warmth, love, and tenderness. And now, that refuge has been attacked by cancer.
Despite this journey and these experiences, grief still surprises me. And the fresh realization I’ve had over and over for years comes true again: the container I have to hold life’s interruptions of pain isn’t big enough. I continually come to the edge of my faith, emotional, and mental capacity. I’m confused and completely disoriented and question God regularly. But I also still believe in Him, even while my faith is hanging by a shred.
Why do bad things happen to good people? I know the answer to this theologically. But in my thoughts and feelings, I have no clue. Grief is so disorienting.
And it’s the disorientation that reminds me, I can’t white knuckle my way through this. I can’t handle this on my own. I’m a sailboat who’s sails have been shredded and whose mast has been snapped in half. I’m lost in grief and sadness and I need to survive in the storm while also finding my guides and letting them slowly lead me back to life, joy, and happiness.
Life has been interrupted. There is more Seeds and Water content and offerings to come in the near future. In the meantime, I hope you’ll be praying for Karrie. She helped start Seeds and Water Collective and came up with our name years before we formed. She’s on our Board. She’s a mental health therapist doing wonderful work in people’s lives, and she’s the kindest, most compassionate, loving, faithful person I’ve ever met. We covet your prayers.
I’m also writing to let you know what I’ve learned about navigating pain and grief because maybe you are lost in the storm of grief and pain and like me, need some trusted guides to lead you back home to safety, strength, and joy.
Distraction is okay, especially when the first waves of pain are pounding on you. I’ve found some much needed distraction in watching my beloved Indiana Pacers run through the NBA playoffs, enjoying my son’s high school baseball games, golfing with some good buddies, sports podcasts, and texting with my best friends. Karrie loves watching fails videos so if you want to make her laugh, you can email her at karrie.thomas.03@gmail.com
Processing my feelings and not shoving them down or burying them has been incredibly helpful. By embracing the grief and sadness and not ignoring them, it’s allowed me to be tender and soft which is what I need and what my wife and kids need right now.
Being outside as much as possible has been immensely helpful. As I write this, Karrie has spent all afternoon on our back porch. :) Our backyard is small, but very pretty and serene.
*Note: Processing through writing, reading, and being outside relate to my spiritual pathways. I’m a “Naturalist” and an “Intellectual” so processing spirituality, thoughts, feelings, and faith through writing, reading, and being outside are a natural fit for me. If you want to take a free spiritual pathways assessment and “know thyself” a bit more, here’s a free test: https://groupleaders.org/curriculum-feed/spiritual-pathways-activity#personal-assessment
Inviting others into the pain has helped because I believe Christ’s words, “Where two or three are gathered, there I am also.” We’ve received so many wonderful words of encouragement, prayer, and support from friends and family both local and all over the world. People are providing meals for us, sharing resources, offering wisdom and connections. It’s been a heavenly blessing to have others share this burden with us. We have felt SO loved by all of you. Grief and pain should never be carried alone.
Reading, praying, meeting with my counselor, getting 2nd and 3rd opinions, asking for advice from trusted friends and family have all helped “guide” us through this. Vulnerability leads to clarity. It’s a very theological response to pain and grief. The most vulnerable act in human history (Christ willingly dying on the cross) led to the clarity of the Resurrection (He really is the Messiah). Being vulnerable helps others guide and lead us through this, which has brought peace and hope in the midst of pain. These two books have been a godsend for me right now (thanks to my friend Doug for recommending this author to me). FYI: I don’t have much clarity right now, but I have faith that being vulnerable and sharing our burdens is part of the process and clarity will come.
And I still make space for laughter, joy, and doing things that bring me and us life. My favorite character in my favorite show of all time said, “Ain't no shame in holding on to grief, as long as you make room for other things too” - Bubbles (Reginald) Season 5 of The Wire.
More to come my friends. We covet your prayers and support.