Over the course of 10 years, the unexpected deaths of my mother, my biological father, my father-in-law and mother-in-law, my adoptive father and my closest friend led me to experience days of a darkest depression and an overwhelming sense of despair.
When family estrangement crept into my world, all I could do to combat these unexplained losses was write, not necessarily with an end goal in mind, but to find my way to navigate out of a maze that upended my equilibrium. And just when I thought I had begun to see the light at the end of the tunnel — faint though it was at first — the loss of two parish priests who had enriched my life led me back to the starting gate.
It was much like today’s political atmosphere of one devastating blow after another, leaving us very little time to process any single event before being blindsided by yet a new unfolding, produces simultaneous “hits†that become nearly impossible to process.
After these initial shocks, I began to stop dishonoring those whom I had lost — whether by death or estrangement — by lifting them from the lofty pedestal where I had placed them, acknowledging only their achievements, refusing to look at their shortcomings. It was only once I took a seat beside them that I recognize their greatest gifts and contributions grew from points of challenge in their lives: a failed marriage, addiction, infidelity and irreversible decisions that caused not only problems for themselves but for others, as well.
And once I set aside the idea of sainthood, I could see them for what they had accomplished on a level that could only happen after their humanity had been made clear; after they faced their challenges with the resolve to change, persevere and truly reach heights previously thought to be unattainable.
The moment for each of us was not only revelatory but redeeming and life-affirming. And it was their courage to face their hurdles, clear them and embrace the truths that they had knowingly denied and, finally, sharing these truths that truly made them great.
Father John once asked me, “Do you think you would have been able to write the pieces you’ve written without having had the challenges you’ve had?â€
We both knew the answer. I then recalled words from William Styron’s deeply affecting work, "Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness": “... whoever has been restored to health has almost always been restored to the capacity for serenity and joy, and this may be indemnity enough for having endured the despair beyond despair.â€
Our achievements are effortless to enumerate. Let’s instead, in this moment when transparency has become so elusive, raise up instead man’s humanity through his struggles, his resolve and perseverance to trudge through and watch what he creates, recognizing that his travails are what will most clearly define his life, as he is placed not on the highest point of that pedestal but beside us, picking us up as we stumble and move forward.
Kathleen M. Jacobs is a West Virginia native and author living in New York.
