Category: The Healing Journey

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A Creative Space

When I suddenly lost my wife and the mother of my young sons, Mary, in February of this year, I felt an emptiness, a hole inside my personality. The edges were ragged and distorted. Sinews of what was left of me were pulled in and broken off in the black space. I was bleeding out into it, chasing the loss and disappearing.

God’s love poured into it. A healing light filled the space and touched every abrasion, laceration, and amputation. There would be much more work to come, but God saved me from that paralyzing pain.

Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

“Create”: verb: to evolve from one’s own thought or imagination, as a work of art or an invention.

Losing a spouse is an end and a beginning. I don’t know what I could create at the end of a story. I don’t know what work can be accomplished on a finished product. But I can imagine endless possibilities at the beginning. My imagination went to work in that hole in the minutes after Mary died. It was cautious and modest at first. I’d tend to the wounds that God had put on the path to healing and I would start to grow something in that empty space. Like an iguana, I limited myself to the size of the cavity. I didn’t see it at first, but all my imaginings fit in a perceived pit. This hollow space was part of my imagination. Maybe it had been there for a moment, but God hadn’t simply passed through and patched it up, he filled it with an immutable light that would never go out.

I was working in the wrong place.

I had the revelation that I was already whole. I wasn’t less, I was more. More equipped to handle hardship, more conscious of pain in myself and others, more understanding of individuals who I had previously thought different from me. It wasn’t a complete revelation. Nine months later and, at times, I find myself trying to fill a hole that isn’t there. In one moment, I’m learning, growing, and reaching out into the world with curious wonder. In the next, I’m longing.

I’m going to make myself stronger today, more whole. I’m going to wake up each day and renew that pledge.

God bless,
Jason

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Girl in the Thunderbolt Suit

I walked into Jupiter Records looking for Black Sabbath’s debut record for my vinyl-enthusiast niece’s birthday gift. Mary had vetoed the choice in the previous year. I get to call all the shots now, I thought.

It wasn’t meant to be. No Sabbath was to be found. But someone had unloaded a small collection of T.Rex albums into the New Arrivals bin.

Instead of defying my late wife I was taken back 11 years (almost to the day) to when we walked into the Virgin Megastore at Piccadilly Circus, London. We were in the unabashed, full-fledged touron mode of our honeymoon and had never been in a record shop with escalators. I was trying to be cool and found a Blind Lemon Jefferson album I thought was rare. I tracked down Mary to show off my find and she was holding a T.Rex double CD: Children of the Revolution. “Don’t we have a T.Rex album?” I said, “One’s probably enough.” My veto was vetoed. It was weeks before we were home and I actually gave it a listen. I wasn’t sold at first, but found myself moving every time one of the tunes played.

Now it brings me all of the joy of dancing with Mary. Sexy, high-energy, hippy-wiggle rock with just a hint of headbanging. And fun, damn good fun. She never had a thunderbolt suit; she didn’t need one, she was a thunderbolt.

God bless,
Jason

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Never Just Another Walk

When I’m quiet and outside is when I most often feel the Holy Spirit. That’s when I can hear the Lord and let Him guide me. A breeze can pass right through me and carry off what isn’t needed. The myriad of concerns and voices tugging at my attention are quieted, leaving a moment of peace void of thought. Somehow, the Lord only lets in good after that moment. Whether I’m alone or with friends, strangers, or family, hope and love fill me up and I can more clearly see the world around me.

These moments can’t be forced or scheduled, sometimes they’re partial, sometimes I ruin them. They most often come when invited. I’m best at inviting among the trees and the tall grasses.

Coverdale Farm Preserve

Delaware holds many special places for me and my memories. In the autumn I see God in all the colors. On a recent hike at Coverdale Farm Preserve, I got to remember Mary and our special adventures there, including fishing at the pond and a trick-or-treat hike in 2013.

Classic costumes, unique attitudes.

This weekend I also had the opportunity to walk the labyrinth at Delaware Art Museum. A Día de los Muertos event was cancelled due to poor weather, but I wanted to take the time to travel into and out of my favorite labyrinth before sundown.

I started the walk alone and relished the literal quiet before the storm. I was at peace immediately and lost myself in the rustling leaves obscuring much of the path. Two boys, a little older than my own, came running in with their mom. My peace swirled with their energy and a broad smile carried me to the the center. I’m discovering that being a dad and being alone aren’t at odds. I can have and enjoy both.

I came out of the labyrinth stronger, calmer, and more ready for what is next.

God bless,
Jason

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Listening In: Matt Lewis with Andy Crouch on Putting Technology in its Proper Place

Matt Lewis recently spoke with Andy Crouch about his new book, The Tech-Wise Family.

Mr. Crouch has ten rules with implementable recommendations for how to take control of the devices that are running your life. Some are easier than others, but it wasn’t until the end of the conversation that the message spoke to me.

Rule #10: We show up in person for the big events of life, we learn how to be human by being fully present at our moments of greatest vulnerability, we hope to die in one another’s arms.

My late wife was present. She didn’t have a smart phone and her tablet was tucked away most of the time. She spent her working hours in front of a screen and spent every other possible moment with her friends and family.

At the very end of her life, the machines were disconnected, the lights were lowered, and she was surrounded by loved ones. It wasn’t planned, it was just right.

I’m working to reach that Mary-level of presence. It takes conscious effort as I try to find income online and quell an uneasy loneliness. I’m trying to connect with people on professional and personal terms, but not neglect my sons and the attention that they deserve from me at this time.

I type all this as they sleep and I hope to finish before they wake. I pledge to be present today and make a renewed commitment to show up for the big events of life.

God bless,
Jason

Hear the whole conversation with Mr. Crouch here and subscribe to Matt Lewis and the News on iTunes, Stitcher, or my favorite podcast app, Overcast.

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An Angry Ultimatum

In a recent conversation, I foolishly boasted that I had been spared the “anger” stage of grief upon the passing of my wife and the mother of my two young sons. This is an open letter to those who have helped usher in this state and to anyone who would dare bring his poison into my family’s life.

I wake up everyday to this reality. Most mornings I get up early, I’m positive, not lonely, content in the quiet house, and prepared to make our lives better. I think about Mary. I see her notes still on the backs of cabinet doors and on the fridge. I try to write something about her. I let myself cry. I don’t think about what she would do or if she’s looking down on us (although I know she wouldn’t be happy with the general mess or living-room-come-Lego-workshop). I think about God, myself, my boys, and how I can use my agency to make this sinful world a little more tolerable.

Eight months of these habits have served me well. I rarely get “ambushed,” that fearful moment when you’re off-guard and a crushing memory comes forward to sear your eyes and explode capillaries. I have few “shut down” days when I can hardly get the dishes done or pick up around the house.

And I am less and less fearful about talking about Mary. My sons and I are entirely comfortable remembering Mom, but sometimes I am unsure of myself around strangers and new friends. I can tell you that someone will listen to you intently when you are at a playground watching your children make friends and running and laughing and you look her (it’s almost always a mom) in the eye and say, “My wide died recently and we’re figuring things out.” As awkward as that can be, it feels good to have another human turn all of her attention toward you. I’ve quickly made deep connections with people because we start at this fundamental level.

Now it feels as if those who were closest to Mary are the ones who want to hear the least. Grief is impossible to understand, especially in others. Mine is active: engaging, moving, pushing, creating, loving, and wrestling. Now it’s angry. It sees people I love not doing the necessary work. It sees people I love letting their grief destroy them and separate them from those they love. It hears platitudes, empty answers, artificial timelines, and a piling of useless words between humans and their grief.

To you who are not doing the work: That pile you’re building is real and it is not sound. It is casting a shadow over you and letting that grief become a monster. When it falls it will bury you and if you happen to survive and dig your way out…the next thing you will see is a black claw closing around your throat, ready to finish the job.

I’m there too, amongst the piles. I’ve got my own. It’s a mound of dinosaur shit and every day I dig into it with my hands looking for answers. Sometimes it gets taller than me and that shadow hits my feet. That’s when I dig deeper, spreading it out to fertilize a greener and more fantastic life.

If you’re not interested in growing something wonderful right now, then stasis and death are your choice. I won’t have that in my garden. My garden takes plenty of work (have you ever tried to rake out triceratops poop?). You are welcome to walk away from your pile and stroll through my garden; Mary’s memory is living there, being cared for and cultivated, but I am not climbing into your shadow nor allowing your pile to soil my sight.

I pray to God that this is the angriest Jason you will ever know.

God bless,
Jason

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#BJJLife

Three-and-a-half years ago my sons won a month of classes at Elevated Studios Brazillian Jiu-Jitsu. With six youth classes available per week, we were able to sink our teeth into the discipline and see if it was the right fit. But after watching co-owner and lead coach Stephen Plyler instruct for 45 minutes, I was all but convinced that we would be staying.

An introduction to Brazillian jiu-jitsu.
White belts earned.

With varying paths, my sons have thrived at Elevated. They’ve watched Stephen train at the fantastic Balance Studios and achieve the top submission of the evening at Philly’s Fight to Win 81. They’ve grown in strength, maturity, and community. When they lost their mother to a sudden illness, Elevated stepped up to support our family in spiritual, emotional, practical, and financial ways. The Roll for Zerbeys was a truly fun and uplifting experience for us and all who participated.

#BJJFamily
No Mercy
Just a little deeper…

Now these boys are taking an opportunity to tests their skills and do some good. Both are competing and fundraising for Tap Cancer Out’s Grappling for Good Tour at United Sports in Downingtown, PA, on October 27th. Click on that link to donate and be assured that pictures and stories will be forth coming. Please also consider attending and supporting their efforts on the mat.

God bless,
Jason

Header photo credit: Mark Likosky

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Healing and Memory

You probably didn’t know Mary. You certainly didn’t know the Mary that I knew or the unique vision each of my sons has of a lost mother.

Aunt Mary: Footwear Aficionado

I met this Mary. Cool, fun, loving Aunt Mary. She had five nieces and they worshiped her. I didn’t question why she didn’t have her own children, I knew that to simply be near this big, caring family was enough for the moment. I don’t know how, but we talked easily about how many children we would like to have in the future. That was our second date.

God made Mary to be a mother and he gave me the opportunity to fulfill my dream of being a father with her.

Smooches at Longwood Gardens, just because.
The pre-smooch at Strasburg Railroad.

These beautiful boys are now seven- and nine-years-old. I didn’t always know why we took so many pictures. I’m intensely experiential, I want all my senses turned toward the world, taking in all the stimuli, gorging on the moment. The camera seemed in the way, “How could we forget this?” “The picture won’t do this instant justice,” or “Can I get some of those smooches?” 

The fact is that we adventured too often to remember them all. Young minds are not designed to capture and transfer events into long-term memory (I’m convinced this is to protect them from all their parents’ screw ups). It seems now that we lived as if we knew we only had 13 years together. From picture taking, saying “Yes” to everything, home educating, and becoming Christian to cursory end-of-life planning and discussion, I believe God was guiding us into this storm. He’s here with us now and guiding us out.

One of our last escapades had all the ingredients. We trekked to Hagley Museum and Library and had the snow-blanketed grounds to ourselves. The boys were total rascals, but we spotted ducks, a red tail hawk, and frozen ginkgo fruit.

These connections to the times before the storm carry us forward. All the beauty of the world is there to discover and rediscover.

Mary is fully in Heaven with Jesus, but I am darn glad that she left so much love behind. The enormity of what she created in her 47 years on Earth is hard to comprehend. The pictures buttress the memories, preserve and enhance them. They give us a foundation of living love to stand on and heal from what we have lost.

God bless,
Jason

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Z3 Adventure: Delfest ’18

On the morning of Saturday, February 10th, my sons trained at their Brazilian jiu-jitsu studio, then were summoned by their father to Wilmington Hospital. Mom had been there for a week. Dad had been a rare sight. They were in their gis, cuter and stronger than any children I know. I sat them down on a bench outside their mother’s room. I confirmed that they understood how sick Mom was. I told them that she would probably not survive this. Hugs and crying. We were then in the currents of things we could not control. Their mother, Mary, would pass into the hands of God two days later.

We can’t control this moment, but we can plan the next. In that hallway I cooked up a road trip. “This will be a beginning,” I said to myself. Nothing radical. We were campers and festival goers already. The Delfest lineup was perfect. As littles, the boys had seen Rhiannon Giddens as a member of the Carolina Chocolate Drops at the Appel Farm Arts and Music Festival in 2012. 

Front row. Zerbey style.

Six years later (essentially their whole lives), they’d get to see her again in all her iconoclastic-americana-irish-opera-fusion glory. I didn’t cry, but got pretty damn close to what might be called “crying.” My sons loved it and we had our first night together in a tent as the Zerbey Three.

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Lighting Fires

This has been a big week. I skated along the edge of disaster and took on three new responsibilities that mean a lot to me and provide me the opportunity to create value for others. I can’t rate them as each is aligned with my passions.

The invitation to write for Macaroni Kid Wilmington-Newark-New Castle gives me a tangible way to share and promote many of the enriching experiences our area has to offer. Nothing in my life is expressly separate from our grief journey, but this will be much more than the story of us “moving on.”

As a volunteer Community Outreach Moderator for Homeschool Delaware I’ll be able to create formal relationships with many of the local educational resource providers that we already know and love. I’ll also get to form new relationships and build connections between the home-education community and the wider world. There are many local resources not being exploited during the school day. I believe that home education is for all; not necessarily full time, but as a lifestyle outside of school. By facilitating more programs directed at smaller groups of children with broader age ranges, I believe we can benefit families of all educational stripes.

I’m also back in a managing role with Classics II, the over-30, co-recreational soccer team that has meant so much to me in the last ten years. My late wife was my co-manager, accountant, cheerleader, roster adviser, inspiration to stay fit and play hard (she wasn’t easily impressed, it was my greatest joy when she was), and confidant. A couple great friends and teammates have stepped up to help me lead the team again. 

spanish time GIF

There are FOUR new responsibilities! I’m coaching a FIRST Lego League Jr. team. I’m not quite an AFOL (okay, maybe I am), but my sons are insane for the bricks and programming, so this is the best game in town. We finally received all the materials and will start sharing that journey here as well.

So yeah, I could use some of your prayers. 

God bless,
Jason

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Who Is Delaware Dad?








Who is Delaware Dad?

When our second son was born seven years ago my wife and I decided that I would leave my job as a proofreader and editor to take care of our boys. Exploring our world with these wide-eyed wonders quickly became my calling. We visited museums, zoos, parks, and any place that would admit us. I saw the unexpected connections the boys made between our expeditions, read aloud sessions, and play time. “Unexpected” would be a good title for the rest of the story. We watched how they learned and decided to try home education. We analyzed the trials and tribulations, looked at the results, and fell in love with the lifestyle. Smaller in material ways, but seemingly boundless in love and learning.

We became libertarians, then Christians. We put God, family, love, and learning at the center of our universe and it seemed to be working out.

Then my wife, Mary, got the flu. She was healthy and strong by any standard. She went to her doctor, we went to urgent care, we went to the emergency department, we went back to the emergency department. She was gone six days later.

Delaware Dad was born shortly before Mary’s passing. I wanted to share our experiences with home education, my love of Delaware and the tri-state area, and help other families find their own adventures. I am so excited and grateful to be able to write for Macaroni Kid. We haven’t stopped exploring, learning, and loving.

God has given us an unexpected life. One that I believe is worth sharing and can help others. Feel free to reach out to me on Facebook to share your local favorites, educational opportunities, and any questions you may have about our grief journey. I look forward to bringing the best Delaware has to offer to you and your family.

God bless,
Jason Zerbey