Empathy is a Virtue?

A self realization that everybody is fighting a very hard battle, and we are all in this life together, is a concept that I believe allows freedom and clarity into your existence. The idea that my life is no harder than yours, for we all are temporary, and we all will eventually know sorrow, helps me to understand that all of this is much bigger than we are. We all will one day know the sorrow that I speak of, sorrow that consumes your mind and overtakes your every sense. Sorrow that comes from losing the love of your life, whomever that may be.

Being human means facing our own mortality, the mortality of the ones we love, and understanding that the temporariness of this life is very real. For, if you have known the depths of love that I have known, you will one day know the depths of sorrow that accompanies it. It is because of this fact, that I wish to ponder empathy.

I believe to truly empathize for another person is an art. This art form requires a quiet humbleness and a thankful heart. To feel empathy for another person you have to have the capacity to dive into their reality, strip away your own biases, and feel with all of your senses. This process can begin to allow you to truly see what another person is going through and feel what they are feeling. It is a difficult and scary process. It requires patience and being aware of yourself, aware of what you believe to be true. As with any artistic ability, I believe we all have it within us. If we nurture this virtue, practice it and believe in it, we all can use it and model it for others.

Curt was my life, my best friend, my lover, my leader, my husband. Together we made a little family, we were unstoppable. Over the last few months there have been times when I don’t know if I can go on. Time has lost all meaning, I feel bloody and weary, as if I just walked out of a battle field. Walking with my head held low, my body slow and cumbersome. As I walk like this, I am walking through my everyday life. I go to work, go to church, go on hikes, go to friends, and I do all of this with a smile. But, my smile is hollow, it doesn’t feel as whole as before. Something may be funny, but it’s not quite as funny as it was before. I will laugh, but remember mid laugh that he is not here to laugh as well, and it all fades away. I can literally feel myself fade and go grey. I have wondered if this feeling will also fade, I’m not so sure about that.

The subject of empathy has been prevalent during this process for two reasons.

First, I have realized that I need and want others to understand. I long for them to at least try, try to understand what it would be like if it were their husband that didn’t make it off of the river that day. I’ve realized that it has mattered to me if my friends are being mindful of what they say, mindful of their words or pictures of themselves smiling together, things that are shared around my aching heart. For, that is what it is, it is like an aching, bloody wound, and I’m trying hard not to get dirt in it. Waiting anxiously for it to scab over, ready to be able to go back outside without worrying about the elements scratching it and accidentally tearing off the scab. There have been times when I literally can’t understand why others are complaining about their life to me, and all I can do is stare back at them, numbly nod my head wondering if this is really happening. Are people really still worried about these seemingly insignificant things? Are they really saying “I know I shouldn’t complain to you, but, its my life, and it’s still hard”..?  

Like I said, I numbly stare back at them.

Which leads me to the second reason I believe that this virtuous word, empathy, is prevalent during my process. I have been frightened during this path of sorrow, that I have lost the natural empathy trait that I have always believed to be true of myself. I am scared that I no longer can listen to others without silently judging them for not being on their knees with gratitude for the life that they have. They still have their person with them on this earth. To me that is worth thankfulness and complaining in addition to this seems to me to not deserve empathy. And that thought scares me. Because, I know it’s not true. I am in a foggy reality and I am anxious for it to lift. I long to once again naturally be able to understand where others are coming from, to without hesitation climb into their reality and be a person for them to cry with or lean on. I know that I am attempting to do this now, I am just anxious for it to once again be second nature.

I know I will get there and I also know that sorrow has changed me. It has forced me to understand the depths of this world and the preciousness of life. I know I will continue on, I will return to being able to listen and not automatically shutting down. I know this because I understand that we all are fighting a hard battle and my life is no harder than yours. I am no different than others, these feelings I now know so well, will be known by all. I just happen to be going through it now, not tomorrow.

Reflection On a Common Question..

Many of my close friends have told me that people always ask them how I am doing. They share that this is often asked with a downward glance and a soft voice, as if they are bracing themselves for the news. The news that I can’t get out of bed in the morning, that I keep my shades drawn, and that I have no hope left. It’s a normal question and a weighted question in the same breath. I get this question as well. I never know what to say. My mind draws a blank and I search for what I should say. I’ve come to realize that this is a question that  our society asks each other constantly, while half the time not listening to the response or giving an honest answer.

As I think about how I am doing, one memory is in the forefront of my brain. In the past I’ve had to watch amazing people go through losing the love of their lives. I remember thinking there is no way, no way I would survive losing Curt. As they were able to keep breathing all I could think was that I just knew that if I had to go through that, I would die too, right along side my love. And, in a way, I think part of me did die that day. Part of my heart is so intertwined with his that it is no longer here, it is with him where he is now. I wouldn’t change that for a moment. It means I loved him with all I had, the complete opposite of what I am feeling now. Just as deep and just as profound. Equal.

But, I have realized that you don’t die completely. You live. You slowly live. Minute by minute you learn how to do this and how you are doing changes by the instant.

You still breath, even though at times it feels insanely hard to get enough air in. You eat, even though at times you have to eat just fast enough or risk letting your mind wander and losing your appetite. You sleep, even though at times you toss and turn feeling for them, the familiar warmth that is no longer there. You work, even though sometimes you want to scream and cry out, beg people to see that none of this matters. You carry on conversations, even though people talk about things that, to you, seem so absurd. All you can do is shake your head and think, life is too short, absolutely too short, to waste your breath talking about another person or to complain about a situation rather than accept it or make a change and move forward.

So, how am I doing? I’m devastated and broken, no doubt about it. I am angry, frightened, sad, lonely, and in a state of shock. At times, all these things at once, other times, one at a time, other times, nothing at all, just blank. 

But the thing is, even though at times I feel all of these emotions, I find comfort in knowing that 100% of the time I am made strong by knowing that I am Mrs. Curtis Van Alen Joyce. Having that name has made me feel that I could be nothing less than strong. Long ago Curt and I became one person, each with our own strengths that together made us unstoppable. I honestly believe that when Curt passed away on the river that day, I received all of his strength as well. Jesus knew exactly what I would need and gave it to me.

So, over the last couple months I haven’t died, I’ve continued to do what I know how to do well, be Curt's wife and partner. Hold my head up and make my baby proud. Honor him by staying true to myself and not letting the darkness take over. Be the person that he married, someone who believes in storybook love and who always strives to be positive. I believe that if during your darkest and most unimaginable times you are able to keep your character and be your best self, you can do anything during your time on earth. And, although the tears haven’t stopped, neither has my faith.

Feeling the Pain

Loss, to me, has been a crazy and absurd journey. There are times when my body physically aches, my heart feels like it is being squeezed and I can’t get enough air in, and there are moments of peace, of starting to understand that I will be ok and that I am being carried through this.

Today I will talk about the pain of loss. I do so with the hope that someone else may relate, my words may resonate with you and help you feel not alone. Because, you are not.

The times of deep ache, for me, come when I really think about my husband. When I see videos and pictures. I am instantly reminded that the person I knew better than anyone else on this earth, and who knew my every thought, is not here. I will never again get to rely on his wisdom to help me through the day or rely on his kiss to make the world disappear. This is torture. The word torture is the best way I have found to describe this longing. I don’t believe there are earthly words to truly describe it, so I will stick with torture. I mean, the word torture, to me, ignites the deepest fire of sadness, and that is what I feel.

When I think of the last 5 years, more than half of the memories are shared by only Curt. He is the only person that shares that thought, story, feeling, or sense. I can no longer talk to, and get an answer back, from him regarding those thoughts. This realization is one of the hardest. It feels as though those memories are being held hostage until I see him again. Those years of my life don’t feel as crisp, I have to rely on only myself to recall the memory. The way we felt the first time we walked on South East Asia soil, the way we felt as we sprawled out on the ground in our middle of nowhere to look at the stars, the way we felt when he got down on one knee on the side of the Skagit River with all his courage and shakiness.. Memory after memory, my list could fill ten thousand sheets.

When I think about his body, the perfect gorgeous, fit, body that I followed up and down countless trails, is no longer here. I long with every essence of my soul, to follow those legs up a trail, to reach the top and have his arm around my neck, have him kiss my forehead and tell me how he knows that together, me and him can do anything.

When I see a video of him talking it is like this never happened. He is here. The video brings into play the normalcy of my husband that I know so well. Him telling a story and giving advice. Talking as he has for thousands of hours to me, over quiet dinners, under comfy blankets, on a plane, on a trail, in this country and far off lands.

I often think of my husbands hands. His perfect, manly hands that could be strong as nails when needed and soft as satin when he wanted to be tender. I can see their every outline, and feel their touch. His meticulous hands, working to get our boats just right or cook me an awesome meal.Torture is definitely the only word that fits.

I know his every smirk, his every way of speaking, his silly, his serious, his passion. I know it all and I have come to understand that our brains are not wired to understand or compute the loss of our everyday normal.

As those of you who have lost a spouse know, there are hundreds of these memories that can go from being a comforting memory to a torturous thought, all in the course of an instant. I think it all depends on the state that you are in at the time. If you are having one of those hours where you are feeling like maybe you can do this, maybe you got this, then perhaps the memory would ignite a smile. But, if you are having an hour where you feel like the thought of going another instant without your love is unbearable, then the memory can feel like you are being held hostage. And, for me, I do what is now my normal, I start crying, and this time it is the deep wailing of crying that I would wish on no one. The kind where you don’t make sense, you cry out and sob uncontrollably. A very, very dark place. A place where you are very aware of the hole in your heart, the aching hole that seems to be the only thing that matters in the world.

Although, I know we can do this, we can move forward with strength and grace from Jesus, it doesn’t mean that it is easy. It is torture and it is not easy. Strength on the outside, a small child’s weakness on the inside. And, maybe that’s as it should be, the bible says “The Lord protects those of childlike faith; I was facing death, and then he saved me” Psalm 116:6. I feel like a small child, weak and scared, I feel that I, myself, am facing death. It is my faith and my hope that the Lord hears our prayers, knows our heart, and will continue to carry all of us and protect us through our greatest storm on earth.

Understanding the Reason

In 2009, my world shifted. I found the person who completed my soul. I found the person who helped me see myself, for all my beauty and all my strength. The person who brought out my silly, made me do happy dances constantly, called me by pet names, and knew every curve of my body.

On March 18th, 2014 my world shifted once again. The love of my life, my beautiful and passionate husband, left his body to be with our Lord. He was on a 12 day kayaking adventure in Grand Canyon National Park with 9 of his close friends. He was found upside down, in calm water, and non responsive. No one knows what happened. He was here one moment and gone the next. Curt was a class 5 kayaker with skills and abilities that would impress us all. There is no reason why he wouldn’t pull his skirt and get out of his boat. The investigation found no contributing factor as to why he drowned and I believe that we will never know the reason while we are on this earth. So, what do you do with that information? How do you move forward with a question mark hung above your head? I’ll tell you how I am doing it, with faith and grace from God. Through this hard and unimaginable pain I have determined that the why, and the reasons, are bigger than we are able to see, but that we will know someday. Let me explain.

The night I received the call and was told that my husband died, is a complete blur yet clear at the same time. If that makes sense. I knew before the call that something was wrong, I had received a call from rescue people that something had gone wrong but that they had no information yet. I knew something went wrong on the canyon, I knew someone was hurt, but I didn’t know what or who or why. When I was handed the phone with anticipation of hearing my love’s voice, eagerly crying out to him to tell me what happened, it was not him on the other line. Brett, his best friend, was waiting to tell me that the other half of my soul had passed away on the river that day. I knew when I heard his voice. It is the moment that my life changed forever, and the moment that I feel part of myself died as well. After that it is a blur. People were talking and crying and living and I felt that I was not there.  So, the best I have to describe it is clear yet foggy at the same time. The darkest time I could have ever imagined possible.

All of that said, through this dark, dark walk, all of us who were closest to Curt on this earth, me, his family, my family, we all have expressed to each other that we know that Curt is ok. We have expressed that this world is bigger than we are and so is the reason that Curt was taken from us so soon. We know that we can not do this life on our own, and now, more than ever, we rely on our Creator to carry us and lead us through this long and curvy road. What is also amazing is the fact that not only do we all know this and have felt it during the darkest times of our lives, Curt was filmed on camera the same day he died, saying the same thing. Expressing that this world, this amazing, vast, and raw earth, is bigger than we are and we can not do it on our own. If we all agree on this fact, my beautiful husband and those of us who are left here with gut wrenching pain, then how can it not be true?

So, how do we move forward with a question mark over our head and not knowing what caused my husband to drown? I do so because I know that this world has shifted because of Curt’s death. It is bigger than we are and I know that we will know the reason one day. Even during the deepest, darkest hours of the first few days after finding out about my husbands death, I felt that this was always the time, it was already set, that he was going to go home to be with our Lord on March 18th 2014. I can't explain it, and I don't even really know what I mean by it. What I do know now is that Curt is not hurting, Curt is alright. He is with our Lord and he now knows the secrets of the world that we all long to know. He knows of our beautiful paths that we all are left here to walk down. He knows the hurt and the sorrow that we feel, but he also knows the in-depth opposite of those realities. He knows the pure joy and magnificent light that awaits us. He knows we will be ok. He knows that we will persevere and grow. This is what keeps me going. This is how I breath every day and put one foot in front of the other.

Video of Curt's trip on the Canyon

Eternal Love

I believe that Love is all we have. I believe that this world, this complex and crazy place, is too much for us to do on our own. It is bigger than we are, it's meaning and purpose far exceeds what we can imagine or are able to understand. I believe that what we need to know is that Love, pure and true, is the basis of this world and the reason for everything. I believe that God is Love and Love is God.

I have felt a lot of anger over the last month as I think about the fact that my loving and beautiful husband has died. I feel anger at him, at the Grand Canyon, at God, but mostly just angry that I don’t have the amount of time that I want with him. I don’t get to kiss him, snuggle him, listen to his stories, and tell him my every thought. Most importantly I don’t get to let him guide me down our path anymore. As I have reflected on my path and the road of life that led me to him, I realize that Love has, and will continue, to lead me. I know it's ok to feel anger, but I know that anger will not take over my heart. My heart is full of love and full of thankfulness.

I’m so thankful for Love. Curt showed me, through his actions, that true love exists. I am forever grateful for this. Since my husband died, I have reflected on our Love, but also on what Love means. At our wedding we read this well known scripture. It meant a lot to us then, but through this time of reflecting on Curt and God’s Love, it means so much more.  1 Corinthians 13 4-7  Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I have seen the power of Love, and what it does. I have felt it first hand. Love is everywhere. It is God, and it lives inside of us. Love is why we are here. God has infinite amounts of Love for us and we are here to feel that Love and to show Love to one another. I believe that through our actions, everyday, we have the chance to show Love and to change the world.

Curt was the most thoughtful, loving, and real person I had ever met. His Love for me was always first, always giving. He adored me, flattered me, built me up, and treated me with respect always. He exemplified God’s Love through his actions. He understood God's Love.

I miss my husband with every ounce of my being. I miss his laughter, his smile, his grace, and his strength. Curt knew how to love without limits. His Love for me was unending, which means it is still here. His Love is in my heart and soul, wrapped so tightly that it is part of who I am. Because of God’s Love, Curt and my Love is eternal. That is our gift. I will continue to live life just like this. Feel God’s Love, and give it with all I have. I will change the world with my powerful Love story.

God's Grace

I can’t pinpoint when it happened, the moment Curt and I became one person. The obvious answer is when we married, but I believe it was long before that. We fell in love, fell hard and fast. We kissed, held hands, told each other stories, listened always, and realized that our souls were made for each other. All that happened years ago. In the bible it says ‘That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh’- Genesis 2:24. As I reflect on the death of my husband, this verse, and our amazing past, no wonder the pain is physical, he was physically part of who I have become

Over the last few weeks, since the horrible day I was told my husband had died, I have had countless emotions. Feelings I have never felt, moments of darkness that I can not put words to and moments when I can see a light, ever so slightly in the distance. As I start to reflect on my new reality I find it hard to start anywhere. I mean, how do you start to process your worst nightmare?

In life I have always thought that the thought of something is usually worse than the actual thing that you are worried about. That when it actually happens its not as bad as your nightmares. Living through my husband dying has proved me wrong. The thought of losing the only person that you feel you can’t live without, is not worse than it actually happening. This has been beyond what I could ever have imagined. I was wrong. Losing my one true thing, as I have always called him, feels like I lost half of myself. The better half. The one who is magical and perfect. My biggest fan. The man who thought I hung the moon and that I  could do no wrong. The man whose love for me was never ending and always first.

That said, if I can live through the only thing that I believe I can’t, then I believe that we all can. I am no stronger than anyone else. I am weak, scared, alone, and broken. I hope that others who are hurting, grieving, and feeling hopeless, can find a speck of comfort in knowing that our paths are set out for us and if we rely on each other and our creator, we can help each other face the darkness. We can find our purpose that I believe each of us have. This season of my life is dark and grey. The only hope I have is through Jesus. He is literally carrying me through, my feet are not on the ground.

The day that my husband died in the Grand Canyon he was filmed talking about spirituality. He said this “you realize what’s going on around you is not something that can be, um you know, you can’t do on your own..” My husband knew that we can not do this world on our own. It is all much bigger than we are. These moments, this life, we can not do it on our own. So, as I breath and live, I will remember the powerful words that my husband has left me with.

God’s grace is sufficient and it will lead me through to tomorrow. I will give thanks for the life that I have and the fact that I get to spend eternity with my husband. As my path continues I will continue to look towards the light, hold my head up, and do the work that I am here to do. Then, one day, I will be reunited with my love.

A Wife's Words for her Husband

Curtis Van Alen Joyce

It is hard to catch my breath. But, as I do, I would like to share with the world the words that I wrote for my husband's service. Love, our love, was so real that it needs to be shouted from the mountain top. I will do my best to shout as loud as I can and with all my might. 

I love you equal, I love you to the moon and back, I love you for eternity. 

~Melissa Joyce