In this weekly column as a self-described riskologist, I try to find topics of interest that involve something that is unsafe or risky — then share my own experiences, mix it with a little humor or sarcasm; and leave the reader with some practical advice to minimize or eliminate that risk.
But last week as I watched Madison Winstead’s story play out on local and national media, I need to step outside of my usual box. (See KyForward’s story here.)
Madison is a Paul Laurence Dunbar senior who’s signed to swim at the University of Kentucky In an unprecedented move by the NCAA, she was cleared to swim in UK’s Blue-White meet this last Friday.
Madison’s mom, Shane, has been diagnosed with stage four colon cancer with liver metastasis. Thanks to the NCAA’s generosity, she was able to watch her daughter achieve one of her life goals. Madison wanted to be sure her mom would be there when she wore a Blue and White cap for the first time.
Since middle school I have watched this athlete reach for her dreams, growing into one of the nation’s premier swimmers in the US for her age, and she is now on everybody’s the radar as a potential 2020 Olympian. As a volleyball and basketball teammate to my daughter on middle school and high school teams, I always knew that this young lady was special.
Realizing her talent, she focused all her efforts to become one of the best swimmers in the country, but would always made time to come sit on the bench with her former teammates.
Just when life looked so bright for this young lady, the worst has happened and it seems so unfair.
After losing my entire childhood family (father, mother and sister) within a few months, along with a cousin, uncle and grandmother I have learned that death is the ultimate risk, and it will eventually catch up to us all.
If you are lucky enough like me to be spared such pain in our youth, as an adult it can catch up to you in a hurry. My father’s suicide really rocked my world to be sure, but I came to realize that what matters is not what happens to you, but what you become.
The Winstead family has been showing many of us what courage looks like. They are choosing to celebrate every single sunrise while they have it.
Grief will try to make you a victim of your own mind. But what most of us eventually learn from such a tragic loss is that we are not victims, but survivors.
The term survivors means “a person who continues to function or prosper in spite of opposition, hardship, or setbacks.” The will to live sooner or later outweighs the ability to die. This is where we survivors find our internal courage. Courage is defined as “the ability to do something that frightens us,” and the death of a loved one is the most frightening event we will ever encounter.
Even though you may be living in your own personal quiet hell, I have learned that you must seek your own happiness. Everybody has their own way of dealing with grief, and if you know me or follow me on social media then you know I do this through daily humor, especially through my Cleatus B. Dangerous un-safe postings. I am far from the funniest person in the room, but I do enjoy good humor even if it’s at my own expense.
Humor is the universal language of healing and what I have learned is that it briefly parts the clouds and allows the sunshine to shine down on you, allowing you to smile again even if it’s for only a brief minute.
I have also learned that you must seek to celebrate and learn to delight in other people’s happiness. It may be a wedding, or attending the son of friend’s performance in a play, or it may be the birth of a child. Sometimes it feels a bit unfair that others are happy during your time of sorrow, but what happens is you will find joy again through other people’s happiness.
Take a moment to like or comment something nice on somebody’s Facebook posting, or attend a tee-ball game of a friend, neighbor or family member. Give an unsolicited compliment or refer somebody who deserves it, because their gratitude even if it goes with saying will make your heart smile again. Doing this you learn to step out your darkness and experience your very own sunrise to happen again.
I have learned that the sun does comes up again, and that as survivors it is our duty to reach out to others.
As a guy I am not one who likes to get emotional in public. My kids had never seen me cry until I experienced such grief. Having a loving supportive spouse is very helpful, but I can say that the most touching and helpful moments when dealing with such grief was when friends appeared out of nowhere on your door step, or when three of my close friends showed up at my father’s funeral in Republican ties in honor of my father. Or when a couple of my co-workers individually sought me out and came into my office closing the door to share and cry with me.
Life is short folks, so when the time is right stop worrying about what you have lost and start focusing on living, laughing, loving and even crying with others if necessary, and go enjoy your sunrise! You deserve it!
Be Safe My Friends.
Keven Moore works in risk management services. He has a bachelor’s degree from University of Kentucky, a master’s from Eastern Kentucky University and 25-plus years of experience in the safety and insurance profession. He lives in Lexington with his family and works out of both the Lexington and Northern Kentucky offices. Keven can be reached at kmoore@roeding.com.