It's BitterSweet
An update on life: Moving and an upcoming book!
Seven years. Seven years later and I still don’t know whether I should be calling next weekend Ezra’s birthday or his death anniversary. After seven years, I still feel silly not knowing how to comfortably label that day. And yet, it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?
When I was a kid, we would often go to my Opa and Oma’s house to celebrate birthdays and special occasions. Of course, it’s not a proper celebration without cake, right?!? But one cake was never enough for our family, so often we’d have a couple of cakes there, with each family bringing one. From time to time, I got to be the server, and so I’d go around the room taking orders. When I’d get to my Opa, he always had a mischievous smile on his face, and he’d give the same response when asked which he would like; “A little of both, please…”
My Opa knew that he was being presented with an either/or question, and yet, he paid no attention knowing that often an either/or question typically had a both/and response.
I’ve realized over the years of grief, both from my own experience, and from working with others through grief, that my Opa was right. The either/or that is presented is typically never the only option that’s available to you. Rather, it’s a both/and. A lesson that I’ve learned time and time again in both my professional and personal life. Something that is just life. Life is beautiful and brutal. We get it all - the good and the bad. We get to experience those beautiful moments that bring a tear to our eye, make our chest pump out with pride, or cause us to think that we had an ab workout because we’ve been laughing so hard. AND life is full of brutal moments. Just watch the news or open a paper, and you’ll see moments that take your breath away, leaving us feeling empty and in pain. Our heart being ripped out from our chest. Then there is everything in between. Sometimes, we experience those moments at the exact same time.
One of the things I haven’t told you yet is that my family and I are moving. We’re packing up our life here in Southern Ontario and moving three and a half hours north. It’s something that my wife and I have always dreamed of, and it’s finally going to be a reality! It gives us the opportunity to be moments away from multiple lakes, to spend more time connecting with the outdoors, and gives us a different pace of life. And yet, as we get ready to move next week, I’m lamenting leaving a neighbourhood we love, friends and family that we’d do anything for that are nearby, and a life that we have loved deeply. It’s both exciting and sad.
It’s bittersweet.
Recently I was telling one of my best friends about the latest developments of the move, excitedly describing each detail as my eyes welled with tears at the thought of not stopping by to tell him about the details of life. The bitter and the sweet often do not happen in isolation of each other but rather simultaneously occur. It’s a both/and.
Another bittersweet announcement is the publication of my new book!
What?? You might be saying! What’s so bittersweet about that? Well, it’s a book about my son Ezra and the year that spanned his birth/death and the birth of our fourth (and last) child. A year that was full of grief, reflection, learning, heartache, and, yes, even some joy. I’m going to be releasing more details about it in the future, but for now, you should know that the plan is for it to be released on the 1st of October, 2023. The first day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. It’s a book that has sat on my computer for years, and at the beginning of 2023, I decided that this would be the year that it would be published. So I started working feverishly on it. Then we decided to move; I got a new job, my wife got a new job, we put our house up for sale, we bought a new house, and now, next week, we’re moving. All in the span of 8 months.
To say my anxiety has been at an all-time high would be an understatement!
The whole process has been bittersweet. It’s been joyous thinking about my son and the impact he’s left on me and many others, but it’s also been a time of intentionally sitting and processing the worst nightmare of any parent. I’m grateful for the time that I’ve had to work with the folks that have had a hand in bringing this dream to fruition, and I’m incredibly thankful that this part of the process is almost over! The book cover and layout need to be completed yet (which is happening at the end of August), and at the moment, I’m collecting some incredible testimonials from some amazing people who have had a chance to read an advanced copy of the book!
The working title of the book is: (Welcome to) The Shit Club: A Male’s Perspective on Stillbirth, Grief and Loss.
I’m starting a list of folks that are interested in joining some sort of book launch team, so if that is you, please send me a message, leave a comment, or send me an email at jason@jasondyk.com
Life is beautiful; life is brutal. We’re in this together.
With gratitude,
Jason