Mixed Emotions
I’m trying to get better at recognizing my sad emotions, feeling them, and allowing them to happen. That’s not my nature, as I rather be the relentlessly positive, happy guy.
What are the mixed emotions?
One is of deep and profound sadness. Today is the two-year anniversary of Kim’s death. After just over a year of being diagnosed with ALS, Kim passed on May 11, 2021. Kim was an awesome lady. We had a great marriage. I will forever love her and miss her and will cherish the life we shared together.
My other emotion is a combination of relief and excitement and anticipation. I’ve finished the full draft of the book, Born – Love – Die. I started working on this book soon after Kim passed, and have wrestled with it for almost two years now. It is done, and is in the hands of my editor, Alice Osborne. I expect the book will be published in July.
There’s so much I want to share with you about this book, and about the journey Kim and I experienced during the year of ALS. I’d like to share with you the introduction Born - Love - Die. Here goes:
Introduction
Life is such a curious and remarkable journey. As we grow up, we think we have things figured out, so we go forth, hoping we are right. It seems like some people have things all figured out, and live better lives. For others, it seems like they stay stuck, or sad, or anxious, or some other version of not living their best lives. My life has generally been somewhere in-between.
I have spent the last half of my adult life trying to figure things out. Through shifting careers (from engineer to corporate executive to search firm owner to executive coach), I think I’m now on the right path, doing work that matches my passions and interests. After a divorce and a long period of caregiving for my mother, I was now in a strong and loving marriage with Kim. I was enjoying great health and loving my work. I completed my PhD in Psychology, became ICF-certified as a coach, had a full book of clients, served on several community boards, and was active with our church. Kim and I were enjoying travel and fun with family and friends, and loving life in our new downtown skyrise apartment. Kim was crushing it in her new career in real estate. Our dreams and plans for the future were aligned. Life was great.
Until it wasn’t. At 4pm on April 29, 2020, Kim was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a terminal nervous system disease. Also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, ALS progressively results in complete paralysis, the inability to speak, eat, and breathe. It is 100 percent fatal.
For Kim, going from perfectly good health to learning that she had a terminal disease in one clinic visit was surreal. The world shifted—things changed forever. Kim and I immediately embarked upon a journey that was both beautiful and horrific. I was tested in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Kim demonstrated courage and grace and love and faith that were awesome to observe and experience as her husband and caregiver.
Kim died just over twelve months after her diagnosis. I was with her, full-time, every day of those twelve months. We both took a deep dive into a new reality. Going from living to dying is an overwhelming shift. But I saw Kim fully embrace and live every day while she was dying. She smiled every day. She was more concerned about other people than for herself. She didn’t want people feeling sorry for her, as she didn’t feel sorry for herself. She had complete faith in God, and knew that she was going to heaven. As the disease progressed, she lost the use of her hands, then her legs, then her speech, and then her ability to swallow. Together we figured things out—how to stay just a little bit ahead of the constantly changing disabilities. We somehow figured out how to communicate during the months when she could not talk. It is amazing how things can be figured out.
During the year of ALS, I was changed. The changes were good, and I hope they are permanent. I was forged into a new version of myself. I think I am a better human now: more alive and loving and faithful and fearless than before. It is those changes that I want to share with you, the reader, in this book. I hope that you can benefit from our shared experience, and make changes in your own life without the need to go through such a horror as dying or caregiving for a loved one dying from ALS.
Why the title, Born – Love – Die? Because I stared straight at the fact that Kim was going to die, and then the recognition that we are all going to die. It is just a fact. Unnegotiable. Guaranteed. It is absolutely going to happen—to you, and to everyone you know. The only question is when and where and how. You and I have no control over how we are born, or how we are going to die. What we have full control over, if we choose to use it, is how we experience the in-between, the part when we are alive. The title of this book was originally Born – Live - Die, and it was my hope that reading this book would help you live a better life. But then it hit me. Love is the answer. Everybody “lives” between being born and dying. But too many people let the fear of death steal their joy of living. Others are on autopilot, letting complacency or boredom or laziness quietly steal their finite number of days left. I realized, and Kim helped me learn this, that love is the answer.
Kim taught me many things during the year of ALS. She taught me not to fear death. She taught me to love all people. She taught me a deeper love of God. She demonstrated a humble courage and grace that was unbelievable. But most importantly, Kim taught me the power and bliss that come from living and loving each day, each moment, fully.
One day, Kim posted on Facebook, with her fingers barely working, “Don’t let worry about tomorrow ruin your today.”
Living life one day at a time was ultimately how I coped as Kim’s husband and caregiver. I found incredible power and beauty in living my life that way. I promised myself that I would continue to live life one day at a time after she died. I’ve been pretty good at that in the past two years since her death, but I want to hold on to it, and get even better. Sharing this idea is one way I can lock in the philosophy into my own life, and at the same time offer some practical advice to you as well.
I thank you for reading this book. If you are living with a terminal disease, I feel for you, and I hope this book provides some solace. If you are caregiving for a loved one who is facing a terminal illness, I know that this book can provide practical advice and help you to minimize your own suffering. For others, I hope that you will be moved into a new awareness of your life as one of “Born-Love-Die.” I hope you will start living with more intention, more joy, more love, less fear, and start tapping into the power of being uniquely present to each precious moment of your one and only life here on Earth.
- Brett