Life Is Precious

Brack’s Story

Written by: Brack Hassel

I stood barefoot with my pants rolled up on the rocky shore of the Columbia River in Oregon. I was surrounded by my two young children and friends who, over the years, have become family. I dipped my hands into Jordan’s ashes (my wife of thirteen years) and passed them along to everyone who had gathered in the tight circle to shield ourselves from the wind. Some of us were ready, some of us weren’t, but we were all teary eyed. We had all gathered at Jordan’s favorite spot to eat, drink and celebrate what would have been her thirty sixth birthday. But, because brain cancer had other plans, we were gathered for other reasons.

If you haven’t felt the ashes of human remains before, they don’t feel like you think they should. They are unrefined, rough, and uneven. They carry a weight that suggests there is something more there beyond what they appear to be. Despite their weight, they love to dance with the wind. So, on this normal spring day in the Columbia Gorge you had to close your hand quickly or risk having the ashes robbed from you by the playful wind before you were ready to let go. A few from our group weren’t ready to let go. It showed on their faces and in their hesitance to scoop out the ashes themselves. But, there we were. All miles apart in our own grief journeys, but, more importantly, physically there in that moment together.

I waded out into the water a bit. I took one of those long breaths that you sometimes need to remind yourself that you are alive. I took a moment to feel the breeze on my skin, the rocky bottom of the river under my feet, and the sun that was straining to penetrate the clouds and provide warmth to my face. Then, I dipped my open hands into the cold water, and I said goodbye. This wasn’t the first time I had said goodbye. I had been saying it over and over again for the last two years.

If you are reading this, you probably have had to say goodbye, too. Standing helplessly while cancer takes. First, the normalcy from life. Then, its vitality and fullness. Then, cancer takes whatever the hell it wants at whatever pace it wants. The goodbyes can really start to pile up.

I’ve learned that goodbyes are necessary though. They are part of letting go. Letting go of the control that we think we have over our lives and allowing grief to go about its business. It took me a while to allow grief in because I thought I was strong enough on my own and could somehow bend the will of the universe to my demands. But, grief just waited patiently. Once I let grief in, it set off at breakneck speed. Grief showed up everywhere: at the grocery store, while I was driving, when I looked at my children, while I was running, while I was at work, and everywhere else in my life. It would sometimes float in and out of a singular moment in seconds. At other times, it kicked its feet up on the couch and camped out for the whole night. I slowly became friends with grief. I learned to embrace the familiar feeling of grief removing things from my life. Sometimes, I could see grief clapping its hands together to knock off the dust of my old life after it had just thrown out things like bitterness and denial. It was scary to acknowledge that grief was bigger than me. It hurt to give up control. There wasn’t much left once grief had cleaned out my life. Just a foundation that was cracked, bare, and felt too foreign to build a new life on.

A crazy thing happened though. Opening myself up to the transformative power of grief made room for new things to take root in my life. They grew slowly at first. Sneaking up from the cracks in my foundation Things like joy and transparency started showing up each day in little moments and ways. Then, they began showing up in big, life changing ways. My ability to experience these positive things had been made possible by my experience with death and grief. Being at my lowest had given me the capacity to appreciate and experience these new things.

“Opening myself up to the transformative power of grief made room for new things to take root in my life.”

I was resistant at first. Not feeling deserving of smiling while sharing a meal with a friend or taking in a breathtaking view that I had worked my butt off to get to. But, in the same way I stood with arms open to the storm of grief, I slowly

started learning to do the same with joy. To experience fully. To stay present in moments and embrace what was in front of me. Each day, I continue to wake up to new opportunities. Opportunities to not take for granted. To be aware and present. To embrace the good and the beauty that surrounds me. I’ve chosen to be on this lifelong journey of being open to both joy and grief.

Cancer made sure that my life would never be the same. The death of my wife showed me how precious life truly is. Today, I choose to embrace joy, love, and whatever life has to offer me in each moment.

Onward!
Brack Hassell