Marked by the Journey, Strengthened by Healing
Yesterday, we had our appointment with the cardiologist, and everyone is in agreement—surgery is the next step. We’ve started the process of getting everything in order for insurance approval so the procedure can be done at TCH. I hope everything goes smoothly. I’m not sure exactly how far we are from the surgery, but I’m confident it will be before summer—most likely within the next six to eight weeks.
Until now, it didn’t feel entirely real. I knew surgery was a possibility—honestly, the most likely outcome—but now it is real. I feel torn between relief that we’re finally on a path to getting him through this hurdle and fear that the last time I see him that day will be as they wheel him away.
No matter how that day unfolds, I know my wife will fall apart the moment they take him back. I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold her together through the procedure. This is where I feel some anger toward my mother. I know she did the best she could in raising me, but it wasn’t enough. She should have sought out resources to help us because now, as a grown man, I struggle to process grief properly. I don’t fully know how to empathize or support others through it, and that terrifies me. I don’t know how I’m going to do it that day.
I guess I have about six to eight weeks to learn. I just hope my ADHD medication does its job—that it keeps me focused on what needs to be done instead of letting my mind spiral. I need to be present, to keep it together, to support my wife and son when they need me the most.
Maybe this is another knot in my soul that needs to be untangled—learning to let go of the anger and replace it with healing. Maybe this is why God gave my wife and me one child who is beautiful inside and out, yet wholly marches to the beat of his own drum. If it isn’t his idea, he wants nothing to do with it. His actions and demeanor check every box for ADHD. Then there’s our younger one—seemingly calm but adventurous, yet testing my inner strength in ways I never expected. Maybe they’re both teaching me something. Maybe they’re both showing me how to heal.
I mentioned in another blog how Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote in The Gulag Archipelago about untangling the knots in the soul. I’ve thought about that for a long time since then, and I think I want to start calling it soulveining. To me, that means repairing the tears in the soul while still bearing the marks of the injury—like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with materials that highlight the cracks rather than hide them. I want my soul to heal, but I don’t want to forget the experiences that shaped me. Instead, I want to use them as a testimony to help others.
Because in the end, we are all marked by the journey, strengthened by healing.
