Serendipity in the midst of mourning
Grief can’t provide the answer you want to hear.
At least once a day someone will inadvertently ask:
“How are you?
“How’s it going?”
The normal, expected answer is “fine” or “great” or maybe even as gloomy as “OK” but, no one expects or wants the answer I want to give.
Mourning is an expression of grief when someone or something is lost. There’s quite a few things that our family has lost:
One of the ten arms that’s been part of family since 1994.
Lives that came with only just a few bumps and dips in the road.
An average to above average family where concern for each other was equally divided. Now it is lopsided and veers towards the state of Carter’s condition now and what his situation will be in the future.
Now, the answer I want to give to “how are you?” is...
I’m in the midst of mourning.
Within the midst of mourning, there is serious grief and a generous supply of serendipity. It’s the closest I can come to speaking positively about this whole experience. But before I discuss the serendipity part, I need to set things straight about what doesn’t come with grief.
Grief doesn’t come with a silver lining.
Your loving support through encouraging messages, quotes of scripture, hope for what the future holds, your own experience with grief—I consider these as precious gifts. Your gifts have been read, they’ve been opened, but many remain “in the box.” I’m still raw in this new reality and it all just hurts too much to let it sink in. None of your thoughtful gifts of support will give Carter his life back the way it was before the accident.
Nothing can take the place of what’s been lost.
We are one-month into this new life and we’re still in the high “grief monster” season. To be honest, I think I cling to the beast. I don’t want to let the past go. I want to hold it so tight that it hurts all the time
Time heals all wounds.
A cliche that I encourage you NOT to use as a source of comfort, at least for me. Yes, in time, wounds will heal, Carter will continue to progress and build a new life around his injured limbs but, I can’t? I don’t? I won’t? forget what he had before the accident:
His perfect strong limbs connected to ten toes, and ten fingers.
His capacity to express his musicality when playing the piano and bass guitar with two hands.
His guaranteed and valued hands-on work that came so easily with a healthy strong body at Loggerhead Marinelife Center.
There’s no silver lining in the cloud that envelopes my soul when I think about what’s been lost.
Carter slogging through his recovery somehow in a better place than I am.
Grief does come bundled with serendipity.
Before you think that I’ve gone dark for good, I’ll turn away from it for a bit to admit that there is plenty of serendipity acquainted with grief.
Serendipity: the occurrence of events that happen by chance in a beneficial way.
It’s never been a common word in my vocabulary and now it comes to mind almost every day. Here are some examples:
1
Dr. Borrego, the surgeon who performed emergency surgery on Carter when he arrived at St Mary’s, is an expert on shark teeth. He and his colleagues study the bacteria found in shark teeth so that they can be better prepared to treat those who are bitten by sharks.
So, guess who collected shark and megalodon teeth—including an entire baby shark jaw—and owned a large collection of stuffed animal sharks? Yep, Carter.
2
Dear friend Melissa purchased a necklace for me that spells COURAGE in morse code. There were other necklaces with different words but COURAGE jumped out at me right away. The fastest decision I’ve made in a long time.
A few days later, friend Jodie made a spur-of-the-moment purchase and gave me a bracelet that says…you guessed it: COURAGE.
Later that week, a mom of a piano student of mine told me her story of losing her mom while she was far away in Liberia. She wrote this to me:
In Liberia, after 16 years of civil war, rather than saying "I'm sorry" when someone dies or is struggling with something they say "take courage." I quickly realized that courage was exactly what I needed.
3
In early November, I attended a Dalcroze workshop held by always-inspirational Jeremy Dittus. Dalcroze is a method of teaching that helps students experience music through movement. I find myself becoming a wanna-be Dalcrozian disciple as I learn more and more.
While there, I bumped into Matthew Kline who I first met at the 2014 SMU-IPT—Southern Methodist University Institute for Piano Teachers. Back then he was a faculty member at SMU. Matthew and I exchanged information at the workshop because he is planning to move to Denver and we were both eager to stay connected.
One of the hardest phone calls to make soon after Carter’s accident was to close friend and colleague Chee-Hwa Tan, head of piano pedagogy at the University of Denver. She gave birth to the first Piano Preparatory program at DU and now I had to tell her that I could not continue as the coordinator of her thriving “baby.”
I had the wits about me to offer a ray of hope. I suggested we contact Matthew because he is steeped in the same pedagogical philosophy and even studied and worked with the same people as Chee-Hwa at SMU. He also served as director of their piano prep program. In essence, Matthew was “me” at SMU up until a few years ago when he shifted career trajectories.
As it happened, Matthew was in Denver visiting with a realtor the day after I had just returned from Florida to put my studio on hold and play for a number of December church services.
Matthew Kiine, the new coordinator of the piano prep program at DU.
Chee-Hwa, Matthew and I had lunch which eventually led to Chee-Hwa extending an invitation to Matthew to serve as coordinator for the Piano Prep program while I take an emergency sabbatical.
Google Drive is where I store all lesson plans, financial records and how I share plans and documents with the graduate teaching assistants. Although it demanded some brainpower that was on limited supply given my mental state, I organized the files the best I could and made a detailed task planning time line. With FaceTime, Matthew and I talked through the entire piano prep Drive folder. It almost felt like I was showing him my underwear drawer. He got the full scoop and was eager to run with it.
4
Thanksgiving will never be the same since 2019 but, to be honest, the accident came at a decent time for a piano teacher. I missed teaching the first two weeks of December and then was planning to take time off until January. So, most of my piano students and their families are graciously waiting for me to return after we know more about Carter’s future care.
As a church musician, the accident couldn’t have come at a worse time. December is full. The South Suburban Christian Church has been so generous in allowing me the time away and will wait for my return.
5
After our 88 Creative Keys summer workshop last July, Bradley Sowash and I had decided to pass along the production of our creative-based workshop for piano teachers to two wonderful teachers and colleagues who will execute and manage it so much better than we ever could. In July 2020, our “baby” will live on in capable hands that hold a torch for all things creative at the keys.
6
In just the past six months, I recently stumbled upon three authors that have heavily influenced my perspective on life: Brene Brown, Nadia Bolz-Weber and Kate Bowler. All of them will continue to impact my thoughts and help me through now and the years to come.
7
A community of friends and coworkers have surrounded Carter with their support and love long before we knew of it. Now, they have quickly become our support network and friends for life.
In the midst of mourning, there is serendipity.
Looking back and seeing how things lined up as our world turned upside down begins the “sense making” process. Right now, these things don’t lessen the sting of what’s been changed forever. Perhaps, in time, they will.
How am I?
I’m adjusting, day by day, to this mourning process.
I know MANY of you are grieving your own loss.
How have you experienced serendipity in the midst of mourning?
