My sister died of a brain tumor in 1998, and my brother died in a car crash in 2006. This past summer, my other brother had hearing and balance problems, and has learned he also has a tumor growing in his ear canal. His prognosis is pretty good–the tumor is easier to remove than my sister’s tumor was, and he won’t need radiation or chemotherapy, but the doctor told him he will likely lose all hearing in his left ear, and following surgery will need to learn how to walk again due because your inner ear controls balance. Recently he posted the following message on Facebook. I liked it so much I asked him if I could share it.
My friend Sara sent me this, and I identify with it a lot. I don’t think my tumor happened for some reason. I don’t think my brother and sister died for some grand purpose. I don’t need a reason for adversity to happen.
The thing is, I’m really thankful for my tumor in this really weird, really strange way. It’s taught me a lot about the compassion of others, and how compassionate I should be if I meet someone who’s going through a rough time. (It’s also helped me not feel my emotions as acutely as I once did, which has been extremely helpful in allowing me to get work done.)
I also see limited upside in my siblings death because at an early age I learned nothing is permanent, nothing lasts forever. You could die today, or next week, or in 100 years. So don’t wait to die. Live.
So to be clear, those major adversities in my life may have happened for a reason. The reason might have been the ones I outlined. But realistically, it doesn’t matter. I’m not privy to god’s (or whatever construct you believe in) master plan of the universe. And the fact is: I don’t actually need to be. Religion is great for some people to help them deal with problems, but for me religion is about making me a better person now, not explaining the mysteries of the universe.
Here’s the only thing I know for certain: Adversity is.
It’s not good, not bad, not purposeful, not meaningless. It just exists. And instead of trying to reconcile it into some mental framework accept that really what’s happening just is happening.
You get to control your reaction and preparation, and that’s it.
I choose to react positively because that’s probably a big part of my personality, which I think is genetic. But for a lot of people they might not choose that. And that’s ok. One of my besties has a way heavier burden health wise, and as a result, he sees the world more pessimistically. And that’s fine. It doesn’t make him a bad person, or anything. It’s his survival mechanism, and mixes with his personality the way it does.
The thing I really need, and I’m assuming by extension, other people, is not for you to bestow meaning while I’m going through adversity. I’ve already found that, and others will likely find that on their own, or not. Dropping a “heaven exists! You’ll see them again someday,” or a “things happen for a reason” their way isn’t going to help very much. I realize the sentiment you’re trying to send and i hope others appreciate your attempt at connecting, however awkward it may come across to the recipient.
People going through rough times need connection, need to feel safe, and confident in their abilities. Focus on giving people connection (drop bys, emails, phone calls, going out of your way to say hi to someone in a non-regular environment), helping them feel safe by VOLUNTEERING (not “i’m here if you need me”, but actively like stepping up and just doing something for them) because that’ll mean the world. They know if everything went to hell, you’d be there to help, and that makes them feel safe. And help them feel confident in their abilities by asking actively “can i help you with x”, where x might be watching the kids so they can clean the house themselves, or doing some free consulting work so they can fulfill their regular job, or trying to introduce them to people in your industry so you can help them find a job, or something.
A great example of how simple this can be is my neighbor Brent. Yesterday he said to me in passing “hey i put your name in the temple.” That means he thought about me at some other time of day and did some action that was meaningful to him. (Also to me, because I’m Mormon and that means something to me, but that’s beside the point.) My neighbor Dustin mowed my lawn once, and fixed my car once, before we even knew about the tumor.
So to be clear, if you don’t know what to say, just go ahead and be awkward. Show you love. That is great. Being awkward at expression compassion is still 100% better than not expressing it. But maybe this post can help you go to the next level of awesome compassion when you meet someone who’s going through a tough time.
I’ve been learning a lot. And to be honest my tumor isn’t even that serious. I mean yeah, it’s brain surgery, but it’s extremely likely I’ll be back to 100% by either the end of the year this year, or early next year.
But if not, I’ll still be as awesome as possible. And that’s all I can really hope for. And the good news is I have an awesome support system around me that is SHOWING UP and helping out. Not everyone has that. My family / church / YC fam are really helping out. So to them I say thanks, and to whomever you know, go be compassionate. smile emoticon
Despite all my seeming expertise in brain tumors and sibling deaths, I still am at a loss as to respond to my brother’s situation. I do feel awkward compassion. I want to say something profound, but I also don’t want to say the silly platitudes like “things happen for a reason.” Like him, I still haven’t come to grips with the loss of a brother and sister. Yes, I probably mourn with those that mourn better, but I’d rather have them back healthy and still suck at compassion. We live about an hour and a half away from each other, so it’s hard for me to go mow his lawn or something like that. We will get together at Thanksgiving, and I am encouraged that he is so cool that “if you don’t know what to say, just go ahead and be awkward.” That describes me.
Sometimes awesome compassion is hard. I used to take my sister to radiation therapy every day for 6 weeks (which led to her later hearing loss.) It was awesome compassion, and I developed special bond with her during that trying time. It was easy for me to take her–we lived close and I know that it really helped her family. I treasure those 6 weeks of helping, and it was the best I could do during those trying 21 months after she was diagnosed. I also took her young children (now grown adults) to see Star Wars when it was re-released. That was a fun memory. But the other 20 months or so was mostly awkward compassion. Most of the time I just felt helpless. It’s nice that I have awesome siblings that recognize awkward compassion and love me anyway.
Thoughts?
Wheat & Tares 
So sorry MH. Best wishes to your brother.
Definitely in the awkward category. I’m better at compassion than I was as a teen, but that’s not saying very much really.
One of my VTees goes very much for the “things happen for a reason” view of life, and seems to find a lot of comfort in it. Even when she hasn’t yet worked out what the reason must be, she *knows* there must be one. I find it a difficult line of reasoning to follow, preferring the “adversity is” line of thought. I find it hard enough to trust God, without designating Him the architect of every misfortune.
MH – what a very awesome brother.
His very mature perspective on what life has dealt him is a refreshing change from the empty platitudes I hear. I recently went through a period of about 6 months that have been the hardest in my life. I never thought that there was a reason behind it. Life and mortality comes with hardships.
I have likewise been very well supported through this time. A SMS, phone call or chat over lunch all helped. It doesn’t take much, just a willingness to show love.
Than you again to your brother who so beautifully articulated his perspective on his life and how we can help. I wish him all the best. Please keep us updated with his progress. God bless!!!!!
I need more time to write a better response but you were heard. Veritaslux
Yeah MH, I’m hearing you too. Lots of crap in this household and, if anything, I’m worse at this compassion thing because I’m exhausted, both physically by my own illness, and emotionally overdrawn. It’s been a 19 year process, and I’d like to be able to muster some more good cheer.
I guess it all just sucks, and sometimes we’re rubbish at it. What I can allow myself, sometimes, is the realisation that this is what I came here to learn, and I do want to help in my own inadequate way.
We’ve experienced precious little compassion for our circumstances and people often avoid me at church because, hey, it’s challenging. But I can understand that in my better moments, and good cheer makes it easier to be around.
That seems to be the very wise route that your brother is taking. It’s also loving and forgiving. He’s moderating his expectations which is double wise.
My guess is that he loves you simply for being his sibling, and that’s what you have to offer that no-one else can. The knowledge of a shared childhood, of knowing where he’s coming from. In a perfect world you’d get to spend some time just hanging out. My beautiful husband lay on the bed with his father for a day, all the time he could take. I think back now and think how precious it would be to me should my now adult children ever feel able to do the same in similar circumstances.
Those of us who experience severe sickness often have to learn to forgive the flawed humanity we all share. It’s not a perfect world.
It depends on the individual circumstances. A couple different friends have lost babies at birth or shortly thereafter. Both have publicly expressed that they are grateful for those who show compassion, awkward or otherwise. It means so much to them just for those children to be acknowledged. For my struggles, though, awkward compassion is less ideal than a person just treating me normal. Maybe it’s the introvert in me, I guess.
I love this message. I also think bad stuff just happens, who knows why? Regardless, there are many opportunities to serve. It’s also making me think of a friend of mine who always blames Satan for her hardships. She seems to get a lot of meaning out of it. Not sure if I should offer her a different way of looking at things, or just let her continue her fight against Satan…
Hugs MormonHeretic to you and your brother. Also thanks. Thanks for writing and sharing this. I love the idea of not having answers. If I could physically hug you both I would. Please accept my hearts desire in small printed black and white words.
Your brother sounds great. He can appreciate awkward compassion and respond with grace and humour. But other sufferers sometimes make it difficult, like those who jump down your throat if you say “I understand” or “things will be better in the next life” or bark at someone who innocently offers suggestions, like Job’s friends. Or they seem to want to be alone, but they also need company, they need to be some kind of martyr. In any case, compassion is a tricky business, but your brother is right that we should embark on it fearlessly, awkwardly anyway, as best we can.
The best example I can think of is from Anna Karenina, when Levin’s brother is dying, and Levin can’t seem to do anything but sit and mourn with his brother as he lies there in agony. Then Levin’s wife comes in and starts ordering people around, making the bed more comfortable, preparing teas, medicines, massages, seemingly impervious to the dying man’s negativity and suffering. She is there to help, and won’t be stopped by his pessimism, and eventually her good spirits and humour win him over and help him endure death with a little more dignity.
I love the idea of accepting awkward compassion. I love the examples he gave of the acts of service that were just done that strengthened connections between people.
When my little sister passed away from SIDS there were a lot of people who reached out to comfort my mother. But one friend from the ward wrote the day on her calendar and every year without fail showed up with a white rose to give my mom.