Daryl Wood's Blog

My friends are ‘congratulating’ me and remarking on how ‘strong’ I am for getting through these past two months. I didn’t feel strong. Thinking about strong was pushing my limits in business settings, being vulnerable when leading women’s retreats, admitting mistakes, and taking hits when unfairly accused. I could see my strengths in that.

I’ve been told over and over again how strong I was for the six years that Doug endured his cancer treatments and especially the last two months of insane intensity. I didn’t think I was being strong. I was doing the ‘right’ thing. I was following my heart and living with as much integrity as I could. I was showing up, following through, staying alert, loving him no matter what.

The past year I kept going doing what I felt I needed to do, sometimes blindly handling things, selling our Sarnia ‘cottage’, his car, his ATV, his tractor. It was month after month of donating stuff, asking for help, waiting for relief, collecting joy and memories wherever I could. People said I was so strong but I didn’t think I was being strong. I was doing what I could to keep honouring his precious life and all those who helped him live long and happy. I was trying to find shape and meaning in a wilderness I had never encountered and had no map to follow. I was waiting for the miracle that would relieve my suffering.

I got through the anniversary in November with the love and support of his daughter and son-in-law and shared stories of his impact. I didn’t think I was strong. I thought I was being real.

And then December arrived and the bottom fell out of my plans. My friend calls it my ‘disaster trifecta’. Weather forced changes that left me all alone on my 70th birthday, Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. The special things arranged with friends evaporated as storms threatened bad travel for me and others. And while I could have joined kind neighbours I felt like a sorrowful intruder and couldn’t find the emotional energy to smile and engage. None of them would have turned me away but I was shrouded in disappointment. That’s what grief can do to you, hijack your mind into a dark corner where you can’t find the doorway out or if you do, it’s locked.

And now everyone is saying ‘look how strong you are for getting through that.’ I’m careful who I tell because I don’t want to be called strong. (What irony as I’m posting this online) There is no trophy, no celebration, no high fiving, no winners cup for being strong in grief. Doug is not here to carve out a sign like the one he made for my office when I finished Coach training. He is not here with a bouquet of flowers and a card with his neat little printing. And there will be no toasts, parties, laughter and medals.

All that’s left is a reminder that I am still here, that I did actually survive something I would not have thought I would. One of my grief mentors tells me that if I can get through that, I can get through anything. There’s not much comfort in knowing I have the tools to handle more hard things. I remember my doctor telling me that my being so open and vulnerable was showing people how to grieve. I didn’t want that job and I don’t want this one.

There is a quiet voice in me remembering how Doug faced the worst experiences of his life and did it with so much strength and courage. He could never understand how he was an inspiration to others but we all knew he was and told him often. And he did it without publicly complaining. That made it so much more awe inspiring. I am not made up of the same stuff as Doug but I do know that many people have done things this past year because they saw me rise up over and over again in the face of my worst nightmare.

So maybe even though I don’t feel like I’m being strong, others see it that way and use my example to live their own lives more fully and authentically. I’ve used Doug’s example and a long list of people who fought through insurmountable challenges this year as my examples. Maybe if we all keep doing our best, in the end we are doing what Ram Dass says “we are all just walking each other home.”