Category: The Healing Journey

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A Marriage Complete

There is a criticism of marriage that essentially states that the only marriage deemed successful by our society is one that ends with the death of one or both partners. Longevity trumps health in our most valued relationships.

I have the questionable honor of having had a successful marriage.

Beyond having made it to the natural dissolution of our union, I believe that Mary and I achieved all we were meant to together on this Earth. We set out with few goals and accomplished all of them, and much more, in almost 11 years of marriage.

We wanted two children and to have a stay-at-home parent. That goal expanded into a home education lifestyle and a focus on family wellbeing that we had not imagined. It created a framework for us to survive and thrive through a difficult loss.

We had rules to keep decisions, disagreements, and conflicts between the two of us, to always turn to those rifts and work to heal them. Through those rules we built an indomitable team. We counted on each other’s checks to improve ourselves and our marriage. I hold this model close to my heart and apply the direct mastering of conflict as often as I am able.

There must be things left undone or unsaid, correct? A widow friend of mine commented that we seem drawn to those ideas that were sown but never harvested. Maybe our dreams weren’t grand enough, but I can’t think of a thing we wanted to do, yet did not “get around to.” A live recording of a Nine Inch Nails song came on yesterday and ambushed me with happy and sad tears. We saw them in a technologically and theatrically stunning show in Chicago. I thought about all the concerts, the theater, the modest traveling. I cannot think of any significant opportunity for ourselves as a couple or as a family that we passed on for another time. There was something in us that knew we only had so long together.

When we had no reason to believe it was our last few months together we got baptized as a family and shared special hikes and personal moments alone.

The end was the end. It was Mary’s story completed and the chapter of our marriage closed.

We had no aspirations beyond marriage. I’m still trying to find my purpose, my story.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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Finding Order

This is my mess, my chaos. Well, it’s the mess and chaos immediately before me. We haven’t sorted our Lego collection since Mary passed and I’ve had the expedient habit of buying bricks when I didn’t know what else to do.

I’m going to spend some time every day getting this in order. My sons create amazing buildings, vehicles, cities, and, most importantly, stories when they can easily access the materials they need.

Also important is to bring order to our material life. I don’t regret focusing on our spiritual, emotional, and educational lives, but it’s difficult to focus on those things when there is physical chaos about.

Wish me luck.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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Alone and Stuck

It’s the talking that I miss most. Mary and I could sit around a fire and talk all night. We were by a dying fire when I asked her to be my girlfriend. We spent hours around our fire pan figuring out homeschooling, then unschooling. We worked on our marriage. We could solve any problem together, as long as we were honest and open.

Therapists, group meetings, friends, family, strangers, a lover…I’ve talked and talked and talked. For all the connections I’ve made, it feels like just as many have dissolved. My world, my network, is continually, and rapidly, changing. I don’t know what to make of it. I counted on Mary’s easy wisdom at the end of the day. We worked to support each other, to create this family and life that was a realization of our dreams.

I don’t know if it’s half a dream now, or if any of those hopes exist.

I do know I have to do this for myself and, increasingly, I realize I have to do it by myself. I’ve read the books and done self work, I know these dark periods are necessary, that the caterpillar must turn to goo before becoming a butterfly. But I fear the cycle is becoming a feedback loop. I’m stuck on the same questions I have been for months.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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The Labyrinth at Union of Body, Mind & Soul

I’m not one for holidays and vacations. I believe in building a life that is enriching every day, one that doesn’t need an escape, but has moments of escape each day.

So as the park in Milton, Delaware, filled with Independence Day revelers and King’s Homemade Ice Cream served family after family, we snuck into the welcoming courtyard of Union of Body, Mind & Soul.

My sons are, well, boys, so any moment is ripe for wrestling, racing, and poop jokes. They’re also loving, compassionate creatures who recognize special spaces and look out for my wellbeing. A silly pose at the center of the labyrinth quickly became a twinkle of calm.

Once we got our selfies and completed the circuit, they went to the serious business of exploring and having a bit of fun with Buddha.

The peace of the visit carried us home to Wilmington and a raucous pool party with new and old friends.

Our life can become unbalanced with activities, explorations, and a constant pushing into the unknown. We are blessed to have found another place where much of that can be unwound and processed.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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Listen to the Impossible Story

Pull that crystal handle back on your time machine and go all the way back to 12 January, 2018. Go and tell me I’d lose my wife within a month and that before the end of spring I’d be in her parent’s RV guiding my sons on a journey I’d never imagined.

My reaction? Impossible. Mary’s healthier than I am and, God forbid, if I lose her I will be lost. I had considered my own death. I had considered the loss of a son, or two. I had imagined how treacherous the lives of those left behind would be, but I leaned on Mary so hard that I never had the courage to imagine life without her. She was my miracle, she brought me to Christ just by walking like him. She didn’t know a darn thing about soccer and made me a better player, turned me into a coach. She humbled me. She showed me what love could do.

Impossible. All of it. You could go back 13 years and tell me all of this. I would not have listened.

I’m glad you didn’t warn me. I’m blessed our tragedy came down the tracks over six days. I didn’t think about impossible: I prayed for a miracle while planning for the likely. Everything was possible in that moment Mary went to Heaven. I was a super hero. She gave me that magic space ring, that radioactive spider bite, that tragedy that turned Frank Castle into The Punisher. Okay, bad example…kinda. I am more keenly aware of my mortality than ever. This present is the only present I have to make the world better, or worse.

So, let’s make it better I say to myself. The first way to make the world better is by making yourself better (I often ignore this primary fact). The second way is to make your family and friends better (hard to do if #1 isn’t in order). The third way is to help those in your community, physically close to you, but strangers nonetheless.

I had internalized the hero’s journey. From comics to Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung to the Star Wars trilogy, I bought into it so much that I committed to taking my sons on a road trip adventure before Mary had taken her final breath. It was that thing that happens to us. Not internal, but received. The type of inspiration that told me there was something out there, that my work and my thinking and my mind were not enough on their own, that the work that must be done is opening oneself up to receive the message. That takes more effort and patience than you may think. Your desires and fears will cloud the message and pretend to be the message. Again and again I have found that praying to hear clearly is to ask for the greatest blessing. The more I listen to people; not their declarations, but their stories, the more I love people.

Impossible. We put this barrier before understanding at inconvenient junctures. But how many impossible stories have you heard? Or lived? Impossible isn’t a dream, it’s a mystery we haven’t explored.

God bless,

Jason

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If It Hurts To Go Anywhere, Go Everywhere

There’s no place we go that doesn’t maintain a connection with Mary. The four of us travelled up and down Delaware and tried on every type of event. She’s in the parks, gardens, concert halls, and campgrounds. In places that she had never been, we talk about what her reactions would have been or how she wouldn’t have forgotten the hummus for the carrot sticks.

It doesn’t always hurt, most of the time we’re smiling and remembering how she heightened every experience with her warmth, her smile, and her ability to be present. Sometimes it hurts like hell, especially when there’s something she would particularly enjoy.

Today didn’t hurt. We had fun with family and friends from Lewes to Hockessin and we’re going to bed fully spent.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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Not Alone

I got to introduce a new friend to a place that is covered in Mary’s memory today. We met at Delaware Art Museum and I learned that he had never seen the Labyrinth. We chatted and I got to share my favorite place to gather my worries and release them. Besides Mary, he’s the only person I’ve walked the Labyrinth with as a pair. We remained uninterrupted for a full hour, a rarity on a beautiful summer day.

The acoustics kept turning our conversation back to the present and I discovered how much the space resembled a temple in my heart. Sounds are made so crisply clear that I can more easily turn my mind to God and perceive what He wants me to hear. Even through our chatting and the crunching of the gravel under our feet, I could hear that I was in the right place at the right time.

All is well in my world.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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An Unlikely, Art-Filled Life

These pictures were taken three years apart and neither one by me.

Delaware Art Museum, 2016. Reprinted for the DE Creative Kids Passport, 2019.
Peninsula Gallery, 2019

Unschooling has been the most rewarding journey of my life. I still don’t like the word “unschool” and didn’t know it when I started exposing my sons to art before the youngest could walk. I had no history or education with art, I was sent by my wife as she knew there was no way I would be a “stay-at-home” dad. Story times and family-friendly tours and activities got us into museums on a regular basis and I quickly saw the magic that was happening in my sons’ lives.

Delaware Art Museum, 2016
Brandywine River Museum of Art, 2012
Biggs Museum of American Art, 2015
Biggs Museum of American Art, 2015
Meeting the Twin Poets at Delaware Contemporary, 2018
Shakespeare at Winterthur Garden, Museum, and Library, 2013
Terrific Tuesday at Winterthur Garden, Museum, and Library, 2014

An intentional learning lifestyle has taken us back again and again to our favorite galleries, where there is always something new to discover.

As we return to all these places in 2019 to complete our DE Creative Kids Passport, I will try not to be overwhelmed by the memories that we have made.

God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason

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My Darkest Place

A terrible drawing, to be sure. Not because I have zero talent, but because this is the direction I conceive my journey to be heading. The point Jung was making is that the journey upward is precisely equal to the internal depth one is willing to explore. My scribble is entirely downward, I even left the rest of the page for more roots and more darkness.

I don’t like dwelling here, I’m an amateur Dante trying to find the bottom of the crevasse so I can climb to the city on the hill.

Jordan Peterson talks about facing the worst part of yourself, the treacherous, jealous, even murderous part. I’ve thought hard about what I could do if I let myself be thrown into that chasm and give into the temptation of self loathing and turn it against the world. I’ve thought about how easy that path might be, how many excuses I could make for myself when it all falls apart. I don’t think I could hurt anyone else, but I became sure that I could hurt myself if I became my worst incarnation. I see that I could drink myself to death if I gave into every injustice, perceived or real.

That’s my darkest place. But like that doodle, there are a lot more roots to explore. I can’t rule out finding something worse, but for now, I find strange comfort in knowing how awful I might become.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason

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Hard Questions

Thank God we had a winning soccer match tonight.

Otherwise, I may not have been able to field challenging questions from my ten-year-old. He opened with mumbling and I was an impatient prick until he fell to tears and said, “I’m afraid of what happens when people die.” This wasn’t just about his mom, I could see it in his eyes, he was contemplating everyone’s death on an empathetic level that would be overwhelming to anyone. I remember contemplating pain in a similar way when I was his age, it was so frightening that I closed off my empathetic self for decades.

So I was faced with the light task of not ruining my son’s compassionate path to adulthood. I held him and we talked easily about Heaven, the inevitability of death, and the power we have to choose how to face it. He’s a smart kid, he’s worked out much of this, but needed to cry through it a little. We turned to the subject of Mary and how he thought he didn’t properly say goodbye. The last thing he really remembers about her was watching the first half of the Super Bowl in the hospital. With the Eagles winning, it was a nicely exaggerated happy moment.

I asked him to remember all the times Mom said, “I love you,” and how many times he said the same to her. I told him, “Mom taught me about always doing this because we never know when we won’t have another chance.”

We talked about how he and his brother bravely came to the hospital and faced the news that Mom probably wouldn’t survive. It took them all day to be ready to see her and they stood shoulder to shoulder to tell her goodnight.

I told him that it was the first step towards Mary’s peace with dying. She’d find peace with many other friends and family over the next 36 hours.

There were more questions about the details of my comings and goings and what happened at the hospital while they were at home. We both got our tears out.

I thank God again for the wisdom these circumstances has afforded me and my sons. We’re not letting this break us, but allowing it to make us stronger.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason