More Reflections from the Front Lines of a Cancer Battle

 Week Seven as a Widower – August 2025

At my son’s suggestion, more like prodding, I began listening to a podcast by a man whose wife had died of cancer a few years ago. There were dozens of episodes, and I began listening at episode one. I was soon fast forwarding through the introduction and repetitive segments. I found it a little psychobabblish and heavily laden with clichés. I will still listen, but with one eye on the fast forward button.

Jason also suggested I attend the GriefShare Loss of Spouse group at our church. I registered and attended the first session on a Tuesday afternoon. I found the information solid, the facilitators friendly, but the process was very slow and tedious. When the session started late, we were off to a poor start. I was happy to engage in the group discussion that followed the video and a short break, but after the meeting wrapped up and I was asked if I would be joining the group for the thirteen weeks of meetings to follow, I made no commitments.

I’m not sure if it’s due to my normal arrogance, or if it’s true, but it seems I’m doing very well in the grief and mourning process. As I have contemplated this situation, I am inclined to think my decades of walking with people through their grief has prepared my heart and mind for this unique season of my life.

Just in the last fifteen years, I have been with three people as they took their last breaths. First, my mother-in-law in the hospital in the fall of 2015. Two years ago, it was my father. My mother and I stood over Dad in an assisted living center after six days of hospice care. Most recently, it was my bride of fifty years.

In addition to these, I have been in an out of intensive care units, and other hospital rooms with people in their final days or hours. I helped prepare memorial service details for many of their families after they died, speaking at several of the services.

I believe having walked through grief and mourning with so many people, across so many years, has prepared me to handle it well. I may be terribly deceived and standing on the threshold of an emotional crash, but I don’t think so. I told a friend once, I was joining Jesus as He is prophesied about in Isaiah 53, in being, “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.”

This could be a result of my approach to problem solving in general and how I deal with serious illness and crises in particular. I began grieving on January 14, the day we received the preliminary diagnosis of cancer in the emergency room. I began to deal with the worst-case scenario first. As we received more information and a clearer indication of her disease, I began dealing with the prospect of death. Having dealt with that, knowing I could handle it, I began working toward better-case outcomes. That dogged attitude and grieving process continues to the day of this writing.

New Places, New People, New Rhythms – August 2025

I was recently able to establish something of a new rhythm to my daily life, finally. It took a while, a few adjustments, and some experimentation, but I finally landed on a suitable daily agenda. As my body and mind seem unbendingly convinced six and one half hours are enough sleep for an old man, I am up very early. I get a light breakfast, watch some morning news, compose some scriptural text messages, X and Facebook posts, and then prepare for my mile and a quarter walk up the road. It gets my motor running and allows me some time for contemplation and prayer. Watching the sun rise over the city is beautiful. I move on to other things through the morning, go to the clubhouse for lunch and return to my villa. In the early afternoon I work through five sets of forty pushups each, making a weekly total of one thousand. This has me feeling stronger again.

I am taking this transition period purposefully slowly. I want to mourn well, wisely, and healthily. I am contemplating what my next season of life may include. As of today, it’s still murky water, but I expect it to clear significantly as the fall rolls into winter. I intend to have a clear picture and a game plan in January.

Attending a new church, living in a new community, being over an hour away from sixty-nine years of relationships, is a challenge. I feel very alone in my villa, especially at night. One bright spot in this season popped up when I sent a note of my disappointment to the church staff regarding some remarks made by a guest speaker. Amazingly, the senior pastor replied to my email, very diplomatically, but he did reply. We traded more emails and eventually scheduled lunch together. The chat we had was engaging, pastoral, and included potential areas of collaboration in ministry.

More Reflections from the Front Lines of a Cancer Battle

A month after Sharon’s passing - late July and early August 2025

The financial adjustments are less urgent, and a bit clearer now. Some things are still pending, but the sale of our home has closed, and the proceeds are in the bank. I am trudging through the paperwork of life insurance forms, changing car insurance and such. The process is tedious but necessary.

I have begun to schedule some travels to spend time with some seldom seen friends and colleagues around the USA. I have about one trip per month in the works through December. My son and his family continue to welcome me into their active lives, and I usually go along. Being with them is very rewarding and invigorating.

Jason is already anticipating the pain of upcoming family events that will be significantly diminished because of his mother’s absence. Sharon’s birthday in September. The first Thanksgiving and Christmas without her and her elaborate decoration of our home for each. We know these and similar events will have us revisiting the emotional part of our painful grief.

While traveling this week, at the end of an evening, I still have an internal nudge to send Sharon a, “Good night, my love. Sleep well,” text message. I quickly realize she is not available by phone and my heart sinks.

While delivering a talk at this conference, I recalled a football player from twenty-one years ago, and suddenly my heart was in my throat, my eyes were welling up, and my voice was cracking. My emotions are still raw, but I am not anxious for them to dissipate.

People with whom I talk, who don’t know about Sharon’s passing, ask how she’s doing, and I have to find a way to inform them without shocking or embarrassing them.

For years, my practice while traveling has been to send Sharon a text message as I was boarding a plane, landing at my destination, or starting a drive home with an ETA. I am still reflexively picking up my phone to send such messages, to no avail. Each such moment grieves my heart.

Six weeks as a widower – August 2025

Since Sharon’s final days in the hospital, I had a sense that even though she wanted a simple, private, graveside service for her funeral, there were dozens, if not hundreds, of people who would like to get together to honor her memory and to share their Ms. Sharon stories.

After she passed, I mentioned to Jason that I had thoughts of gathering people at Saluki Stadium on the campus of Southern Illinois University, where she had made so many friends and countless memories. We discussed the possibility, I checked with her siblings, and a couple of others, and then decided to do it. Family and friends immediately offered to help make it a success.

I bounced several ideas around in my mind and eventually settled in on a very simple agenda, aiming for forty-five minutes total:

- Welcome and introductions by Mike Reis, former voice of Saluki Sports, and a trusted friend.

- Remarks from Dr. Phil Anton, a university professor with ties to cancer treatment and rehabilitation. He’s always poignant and funny.

- Memories from 1990s quarterback, Jeff Brune. In his phone’s contacts, Sharon is listed as, “Other Mom.” Such has been their relationship for decades.

- Reflections from 2000s quarterback, Joel Sambursky. We walked with Joel through his playing career, his courtship and marriage to Samantha, and through the birth of their children, two of which have battled serious medical issues.

- Lastly, I would wrap things up by saying, “thank you” a lot and sharing some details from our last days together.

SIU Athletics created a graphic, Jason added details and RSVP information to it, and we shared it widely on multiple social media platforms. We also made direct invitations to many of Sharon’s friends and family.

As the days trudged along, the number of RSVPs steadily grew and so did the excitement for the event. I was stunned by the list as I noticed people were planning to attend from Kansas City, Indianapolis, Minnesota, Chicago, Alabama, and many other places. Sharon’s network of relationships was nationwide.

The big day, Saturday August 9, arrived and to our dismay, the elevator in Saluki Stadium was broken. We pivoted to meeting in the Cook Club of the Banterra Center (basketball arena). People began arriving even before the 2:00 start time. The program went very well, and each one shared his heart very candidly. The crowd was between 150 and 200 people, standing room only. Patty Stokes, an excellent caterer, had prepared snacks just like Sharon used to make for groups we would host in our home in Carbondale. They were delicious. After the program concluded, people stayed around for refreshments, told stories, caught up with each other, cried, laughed, and hugged a lot. The room was almost empty by 4:00, the exact time I planned.

On my way to the Banterra Center, I stopped by Lipe Cemetery to visit Sharon’s burial site. I had ordered our headstone, but it would be months before it is installed. I wanted to see how things looked. When I arrived and walked to the burial location, I suddenly realized I had marked the wrong spot for the burial. Oops. Thankfully, her remains are in an urn and not in a casket with a concrete burial vault. That afternoon, I spoke with Jason and asked if he’d like to help me move the urn to the proper location. He agreed.

Sunday afternoon, August 10, Jason and I loaded up shovels, cleaning materials, cold water, and other gear for excavation in the 90 plus degree afternoon. We made the 75-minute drive, set things up, and made the emotional move of Sharon’s remains in 30 minutes. We drove home while listening to Connor James’ lengthy interview with Sharon from 2019. It was amazing to hear her voice. We both were quite emotional as we listened to our departed love. Later in the afternoon I shared a link to the interview with our closest friends and family. They loved it.

Please pray for the Fourth Global Congress on Sport and Christianity

Please pray for the 250+ men and women from around the world at the Fourth Global Congress on Sport and Christianity at Truett Seminary of Baylor University in Waco, Texas, USA.

It began on Thursday evening, July 31 and will continue through August 2. Over 170 presentations and panel discussions, plus several plenary sessions will challenge and encourage those in attendance.

https://truettseminary.baylor.edu/programs-centers/faith-sports-institute/global-congress-sport-and-christianity

There are remarkable things happening around the world at the intersection of Christian faith and sport. I will report on the event after it is concluded. Please plan to join us at the Fifth Congress in 2028. More details to follow soon.

More Reflections from the Front Lines of a Cancer Battle - Week Four as a Widower.

Week Four as a Widower.

Formerly, I had to work hard, schedule well, and plan wisely to achieve some solitude. Now, retired and widowed, solitude surrounds me, all day and all night.

I, the incurable and unapologetic extrovert, find myself alone…. a lot. In crowds, alone. At church, alone. Waking up in my bed, absolutely alone.

I am not as emotional about my loss as I was a few weeks ago. I am more emotionally numb than anything at this point. I have enough tasks to keep me busy presently, but I know after the sale of the house is closed, the banking is completed, and I return from the Congress in Texas, a lot of open space and unoccupied time awaits me. That is worrisome.

I have a number of people with whom I correspond daily. I send one set of folks battling disease scripture and prayer. Another few receive a daily prompt for devotional reading. Dozens of sports chaplains across Latin America receive a link to each day’s post of my devotional book in Spanish, which they in turn share with many others. These daily connections help me stay in the scripture, and sharing with others, even as my flesh would rather withdraw completely.

Years ago, Sharon and I joked that if she was to precede me in death, I would either die an old widower or be remarried in six months. She said, “You’d be remarried right away; you’d be helpless alone.” She may be right about the helpless part.

Reflections from the Front Lines of a Cancer Battle

My wife’s cancer battle consumed the first six months of 2025. It ultimately ended her life on earth, much too soon, and much too painfully. Throughout those months, I was alternately locked in the battle and trying to maintain an equilibrium to our lifestyle. As the weeks, appointments with doctors, treatments, emergency room visits, surgeries, and sleepless nights mounted, I became reflective and tried to make sense of what I was experiencing.

Writing reflections in the notes app of my mobile phone became a helpful way of processing all my heart and mind were experiencing. Below are a few of those reflections. They are raw, vulnerable, and gut-level honest. I certainly have a long way to go in my grieving and mourning process.

Inadequate and Distracted – April 2025

How can I, a man who prides himself on self-reliance, achievement, and strength, be so utterly inadequate and easily distracted? 

Walking with my wife through cancer treatments, weakness, and incapacity, has exposed many more of my personal weaknesses and character flaws. 

The added grief of losing family and friends to death compounds these matters. 

 How shall I deal with all this? I have no other recourse than to trust wholly in the grace and mercy of Christ Jesus - His power to save to the uttermost. That’s all I have. 

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. 2 Corinthians 4:7-10

Is this really my life? – early May 2025

As these days of life in and around a hospital have stretched on, I have wondered, “Is this really my life?” It seemed like I was observing someone else. 

Scenes like these, hotel room doors and hospital corridors, assure me this is my present reality and keep me grounded in the moment. 

Intimacy – mid May 2025

Intimacy at fifty weeks into a dating relationship is significantly different than intimacy after fifty years of marriage. 

The former is clumsy, hormonal, and exciting, finding ways to be together, aching to touch the other, and longing to be trusted. 

The latter is more sober, more familiar, and fully trusting, caring for an ailing spouse, preserving her dignity, and affirming commitment for life.

Reflections from a hospital room – early June 2025

Stage four metastatic peritoneal cancer is hellish. It has stripped my bride of her energy, ravaged her body, and destroyed her confidence. Despair stands outside the hospital door waiting to strangle her soul. 

Being my wife’s primary caregiver has alternately strained and strengthened our relationship. She needs me more than ever. She frustrates me because I see the consequences of momentary choices (like not eating) very clearly. 

Lifting her into and out of bed, the bathroom, a wheelchair, and more has become a well-rehearsed dance. More like an awkward, junior high, slow dance to “Nights in White Satin” than like disco or swing dancing. 

The anticipated highlight of our upcoming fiftieth wedding anniversary is chemotherapy treatment and possibly some frozen custard afterwards. 

Removing her clothes was much more fun fifty years ago than it is now. It’s still powerfully intimate, but in an infinitely more severe way. 

My natural bent toward optimism is being powerfully tested in these days. Trying to stay afloat in this waxing and waning tide of confusing medical information, twice daily dispensation of medications, nightly flushing of her pic line, sleeplessness, frustration with a painfully slow process, and the insidious whispering prospect of being widowed is squeezing my soul. 

Through all of this, I remain committed to love and to serve my wife; charging the fiery gates of hell in a gasoline suit while armed with a squirt gun. I am here for all of it. 

Reflections after one week as a widower – July 2025

From March 7 through June 27, my life was almost entirely consumed by Sharon’s battle with metastatic peritoneal carcinoma and my care for her. I immediately withdrew from most all my work, ministry, and recreational pursuits. I was granted a leave of absence (graciously with pay) by my employer, and we eventually agreed I would retire at the end of May. 

The sixteen weeks we anticipated would be given to chemotherapy treatments and recovery, along with a surgery and more recovery, turned into a swirling vortex of delays, infection, hospitalization, removal of an infected chemo port, confusion, open-heart surgery, recovery, five weeks of thrice daily antibiotic infusions, the sale of our home, a move to a neighboring state, restarting chemotherapy, precipitous weight loss, weakness, shortness of breath, fluid drainage, steadily dropping blood pressure and declining vital signs.  This torturous process finally took her life as she was lying in our bed, at home, surrounded by family. 

My role as full-time caregiver was full of frustration with the situation, occasional irritation at Sharon’s lack of appetite, disgust with my own lack of compassion, anticipation of the worst case scenario while advocating for the best case, questions about medical bills, insurance coverage, concern for family members, and communication with a broad network of family, friends, and ministry colleagues. 

Since my wife’s cancer diagnosis five and one-half months ago, I have been grieving. Firstly, I grieved the horror of the disease and its terrible effects upon my bride. Secondly, I grieved the way it was causing her to suffer in increasingly more severe ways. Ultimately, I began to grieve her impending death as we started hospice care, and then her passing three days later.

Now, grief has new dimensions as it includes loneliness, disorientation, and questions about the future. 

Occasionally, something will happen, and I will reflexively pick up my phone to send her a text message about it. As I work to understand our finances and obligations, my first instinct is to ask her for a password or a person to call. She is not here to answer. 

My daughter-in-law helped me go through her jewelry, her clothes, and accessories. We made personal gifts of some items, we gave away fifteen bags of clothing and shoes and discarded several other items. That was painful, emotional, and extremely helpful. 

My immersion into our personal finances has been tedious, pleasantly surprising, and liberating. Our situation was better than I had imagined, but more complicated than I desire going forward. I have paid off a few small balances and shredded several credit cards. I am building a new budget as a retired widower, with an eye toward some strategic travel, and the potential launch of a ministry mentoring sports ministry leaders in 2026. 

Less than Three Weeks In… - July 2025

I am making adjustments daily. I am trying to set a new daily regimen and to restore some order to my lifestyle. It took six months to wreck my sleep patterns; it may take some time to restore a healthy rhythm. I am getting a handle on finances and am about to close on the sale of our home in Carbondale. That will result in a strong boost to my savings and some measure of financial security.

I am not sure what to do with the loneliness that stalks my quiet hours. I trust my Comforter will be even more tangibly present as I mourn my wife’s departure, and as I contemplate a future in fulfilling our Lord’s purposes for my life.

My 69th birthday is rapidly approaching.

The past six months have been among the most challenging of my lifetime. My wife, Sharon's illness and its accompanying complications have made us deal with hard issues, but have also deepened our commitment to and love for each other.

I see my calling and responsibilities more clearly than ever. I remain committed to the completion of God’s purposes in my life.

I see retirement, no longer on the horizon, but as a present day reality. I see it not as a cessation from work, but as a new gear for productive engagement of God’s purposes.

Six months ago, I had no real interest in retiring. I was always prepared to travel and to serve, anywhere at any time. Sharon’s health challenges led me to understand she needs me more than I need to work. This is a responsibility in which I must not fail.

I see my son approaching fifty years of age with sheer delight in his maturity, his marriage, in his parenthood, and his personal devotion to Christ.

I see the rapid, amazing development of my beloved granddaughters. I want to be involved in as much of their lives as possible. These opportunities are too soon gone forever.

Today, less than one week into my retirement, I am a full-time caregiver for my bride of almost fifty years. I will remain so until her condition improves to allow more independence.

This season of cancer treatment, surgeries, and more will continue through the autumn months, at least. I will pop my head up again in January of 2026 to see where I may be of service to the sports ministry community in the future.

My assertion of many years, that one’s identity is not wrapped in his performance, his work, or even his ministry is about to be tested, in my own heart and mind.

Please pray for us as we navigate this turbulent season of life. Conditions change daily, but we are persevering. Thanks.

Retirement announcement

On 30 May, I will officially retire from my service as Character Coach Director for Nations of Coaches (https://nationsofcoaches.com/), a ministry to college basketball in the USA.

The health challenges my wife, Sharon, is experiencing have led to this somewhat abrupt change. At this point in our soon to be 50-years of marriage, she needs me more than I need to work.

The spring and summer months will reveal how strongly she will recover and that will determine if and when I can resume some level of ministry. She is my highest priority.

I am contemplating making myself available to sports ministry leaders for mentorship, coaching, and consulting. I will provide more details as they become available.

In the short term, I am available for chats via telephone or Zoom, if I can be of service to you. Sharon and I are moving from our home in Carbondale, Illinois to an apartment near our son’s family in Southeast Missouri.

I plan to continue to produce content via blog posts, Bible studies, video, and more. Thanks for your invaluable partnership.