Holding On...

Originally Published January 6, 2020

Today we're holding on.

Debilitating disease teaches you how to let go, little by little, as the disease takes over. The only way to survive the loss and grief that faces you every day is by learning to let go of what was and somehow finding grace and gratitude in what is. Some days are easy, others not so much. It sometimes feels like a game we play so we have the strength to face another day, and we are always grateful for one more day.

Today it's been 10 years since I met Paul. Today we watched the Team Canada Junior Hockey team win Gold. A game we both love. Paul is a hockey player.

When we met Paul was playing hockey up to 4 times a week, on many different teams. There was Sunday Night hockey with the wives in the stands and group dinners afterward; the Bentsticks team, again with wives in the stands and end of season tailgate parties in the parking lot; BCIT Friday Hockey, and pick up teams too. Paul prided himself on the Bentsticks, being the oldest guy out there where most players were 20 years younger than him. Always sharing stories of goals scored and defensive plays made, Paul is a hockey player.

Then came IPF. Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. Despite his diagnosis, Paul played hockey. Fewer teams, and less often, but he still played. Hockey gear was always out and at the ready in the garage. In December 2018 he was playing 3 times a week. He hasn't played since. Still, for months the hockey gear was out and at the ready for when he'd play again.

Recently Paul went to watch the Bentsticks play, spent some time with his teammates, and turned in his Bentsticks jersey in. Bentsticks would be no more for Paul. No more teammates, no more games, no more hockey.

Eventually, the gear got stuffed up on a shelf - still ready - just on the shelf, and there would always be talk of playing again, once he had new lungs.

We were in the garage today, sorting out all the stuff, organizing, and needing space. The overflowing hockey gear was staring at us, and I heard; "Let's just pack up the hockey gear. Get rid of it. I'll never use it again." I was immediately winded, as though I had been punched in the stomach. I was not ready for this. Witnessing the pain of letting go; hearing defeat in his voice. We both had eyes filled with tears.

No. Today I am holding on. We are not letting go today! My response was; "let's just sort it out, and pack it properly for now." As we held each other our grief and sadness intertwined. I cannot know the depths of his sadness, nor can he know mine - yet, no matter how deep it gets, we will stand in it together.

Debilitating disease robs you of life. With passing time you are forced to let go of many things. As the disease progresses loss and letting go become your constants. it is an ongoing cycle of loss, grief, and anticipatory grief for what's to be lost next. So we learn to let go, to find grace, and to hold on to gratitude for what remains.

But not today! Today we sorted, cleaned, and organized all the gear into one smaller bag. And there it is, sitting on the shelf, staring at us. Because today, today we're simply holding on.

Paul and I have been holding on to each other for 10 years. Team Canada won gold today. it seems only fitting that today we're holding on to hockey gear.

Yep! Today we're holding on!

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About the author:

Karen Hendrickson is an Elevation Coach, focused on helping others to rewrite their life story, befriend their mortality, and find the richness and magic that lives at the intersection of our lives where life and death meet. When we allow our authentic self permission to shine our life becomes full of MAGIC and GREATNESS.  Contact karenttjourney@gmail.com and start working with her today!