Dan and Jenny Stults were living their happily ever after. They had a beautiful daughter and dreams of more children. In 2015, her world was shattered when her 36-year-old husband dropped dead for no good reason at all. Dan was her high school sweetheart and soul mate. Jenny knew she couldnât go on living without Dan, she also knew she didnât have any choice but to continue living; their 7-year-old daughter needed her. Despite unfathomable grief, they endured. Jenny recounts the story of this nearly impossible task in her memoir about true love, sudden death, and penetrating grief.
Dan and Jenny Stults were living their happily ever after. They had a beautiful daughter and dreams of more children. In 2015, her world was shattered when her 36-year-old husband dropped dead for no good reason at all. Dan was her high school sweetheart and soul mate. Jenny knew she couldnât go on living without Dan, she also knew she didnât have any choice but to continue living; their 7-year-old daughter needed her. Despite unfathomable grief, they endured. Jenny recounts the story of this nearly impossible task in her memoir about true love, sudden death, and penetrating grief.
I will never love anything more in this world than I loved him.
â Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Dan was a writer. He wanted to write counseling books, theology books, parenting books, childrenâs books, and young adult novels. It reminds me of that Hamilton line: âWhy do you write like youâre running out of time? Write day and night like your writing out of time?â Dan was always writing. He always had something to write about and at least 100 more ideas in his head of things to write about when he could find the time.
Dan wrote out his three main goals in life:
My first goal is to love. I want to love God with all my heart, mind, and soul. I find this daunting, and I challenge anyone who doesnât. âHeart, mind, and soulâ is basically symbolic, representing the whole of oneâs being. No compartmentalizing, only holistic, unhindered love. I donât do it, but this is my goal. I want to love my family. Despite my many foibles and failings, I really, truly, really want to be a better father and a better husband every day. I want to love them more deeply every day. I want to submit and support, lead and guide, follow and encourage. I want to love my friends. I want to be a support, I want to build up, I want to cheer on. I want to know and be known in a personal, transparent way that opens me up and opens them up to compliments and critique, accolades and accountability. I want to love others. I want to show compassion, empathy, and aid to those who need it. I want to be a safe place for people in a dangerous world. I want to figure out what it means to be incarnational. I want to love my enemies. I want to not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good (this is a hard one for me, Iâm pretty vengeful). I want them to be so surprised, so taken aback, so shocked by my love in the face of their, well, enemyness, that the seeds of revolution will be planted in their heart.
My second goal is life. There is so much to see, so much to do, so much to experience. There are so many blessings to give and receive and I donât want to miss it. I donât want to look back on anything with regret, I donât want to wish I had been brave or bold. This is difficult for me as I am pretty much always shy and sometimes cowardly. I am frustrated by the human tendency to get stuck doing things a certain way because they have always been done that way or to think that something canât be done simply because it has never been done before. When St. Peter meets me at the pearly gates and introduces me to my first angel, and that angel asks me, âSo, what is life like?â I want to have a good answer.
My third goal is to leave a legacy. Our lives are but mist, or the equivalent of the blink of an eye in all of time. We will not be around very long and we will not be remembered. Almost everything we do, even the most powerful and influential of us, fades away into meaninglessness and is without consequence. Almost. Some people live their whole lives like this and simply donât care and it drives me insane. I want to leave a legacy; I want the time allotted to me to result in more than consumed resources and over-populating offspring. I want said offspring to know me, to know their history through me. I want lives and subsequent generations to be different because I was involved. I want to help people heal and be transformed now and after I meet that angel. Lofty and perhaps a little arrogant? Yeah, probably, but also doable.
Dan was the Lorax. He spoke for the trees. His favorite phrase comes from The Lorax: âUnless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. Itâs not.â Dan was that someone that cared a whole awful lot, someone that cared enough to make it better. An avid environmentalist, he was always trying to save the planet. When he was a kid, he built a wildlife habitat in his back yard. He would get mad at his dad for trimming trees. âYou cut too much down. The earth needs trees.â He wanted to be part of the ASPCA saving animals wherever he could. He was big on animal rights, and rescuing animals that needed a home. We ended up with three cats, two bunnies, a rat, and a tarantula that way. I drew the line at a pig, but he tried.
Dan was a counselor. it wasn't just his job, it was who he was. It was just part of his being. Even in high school friends would come to him for a listening ear and some advice. Everyone knew if you had a problem to go talk to Dan about it. I wonder what percentage of his job was counseling actual clients verses other staff members. I bet itâs pretty close to 50/50. Even my sisters and his mom would get advice about life from him. That is who Dan was.
Our daughter India had him wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was conceived. He treated India like she was the most precious thing in the world, because to us she was. He would dance and sing with her. He would make up songs on the spot. Once they made up an opera together, and I was lucky enough to catch it on video.
I couldn't wait for him to get home from work every day. To give him an âIâm glad youâre homeâ kiss. I felt completely safe and secure when he was around. I didnât realize how much until he was gone and I didnât have that feeling of safety anymore.
Danâs friend Esther told me once, âYou know, Dan would light up when he talked about you. He thought you were amazing. You could tell by his body language how wonderful he thought you were.â
Dan did think I was amazing. I could never figure out why, but I knew he thought it. He told me every day how wonderful I was. I would make some crafty little project and he would be blown away. He was in awe of our family scrapbooks, assuring me he could never make anything like that. He was continually amazed at how I did things right under his nose.
When people asked me about getting things fixed around my house I always said âWell, Dan is what one would call an intellectual. Dan is not a handyman.â I was more of a handyman than Dan was. Dan couldnât fix anything. In fact, Dan sucked at fixing stuff. I fixed all our stuff. Not that I did a fabulous job at it or anything, but it was better than what Dan could have done. Dan could change a tire if he had to, but frankly, he would rather call AAA. Dan was very, very, very smart. Dan could not fix anything.
Yet still, we shared responsibilities equally. We never fought, we never yelled at each other. That just wasn't our way. When we would disagree, it would end in laughter.
It was always the two of us against whatever may come. My friend Jill wrote to me once about what she thought of our relationship:
He was a full partner. I mean every relationship has its dynamics, even family ones. But you were partners. I always wanted that kind of relationship and watching you two as a single person gave me some hope. The only words I have for it are âpartnerâ and âteamâ. But that is so weak; it just hits the surface. He wasn't a sit back and do his own thing guy. Neither were you.
Yes, that was us. We were 100% in this together.
One time, I was asked in an interview what would I say my husbandâs biggest flaw was. I looked her straight in the eye and very seriously I said, âHe procrastinates like thereâs no tomorrow.â To me, that was my husbandâs greatest flaw. It really was the very worst thing about him. He would pack his bag ten minutes before leaving for the airport. Mine would be done the day before. He was the guy that wrote sermons on a napkin in the car on the way to church. At least I was driving! Those were some of his best sermons too. Dan was not lazy, but he did procrastinate so much he could be perceived as lazy. He liked to tell me that, when I would ask him if he had finished some project. âWell right now, Jennifer, Iâm being perceived as lazy.â All I could do was shake my head at him. I would give anything to have him here doing any one of those things again. Even annoyances are missed when they are gone forever.
Dan hated mint. I love mint. He hated it so much that he wouldnât kiss me if I had eaten anything with mint. He hated mint so much that he would use childrenâs fruity toothpaste. Mint mochas are one of my favorites, and he hated them. But it wouldnât stop him from bringing me one home from Starbucks when I was having a hard day. It didnât stop him from making me a homemade one and bringing it to me as I cuddled our daughter on the couch.
He was incredibly disorganized. He liked to call me his personal secretary because I was always finding his stuff for him: socks, keys, milk. He used to open the fridge door and say, âJennifer, I canât find the milk!â I would go into the kitchen to look and there was the milk in the fridge, right in front of his eyes, but he didnât see it.
Along with his disorganization came his complete lack of direction. Dan was always getting lost. So much so that when he would come home late from work, I would tease, âWhat happened did you get lost?â He once got lost going to the city library. He once got lost going to my parentsâ house from his parentsâ house. Dan was so excited when they invented GPS. It was one of the best things that ever happened to him. Sometimes, though, he would still get lost anyway.
Dan hoarded papers. Every article he found, every workshop he went to, every paper he received in class, every paper he wrote, stories, poems. He kept it all. We had stacks and stacks of papers all over our house. I would try to organize them for him, but it was a pointless endeavor. Every time I turned around, there were more papers. Yet every time he needed a specific one, I was able to find it for him.
I think Dan loved me more than anyone has ever loved someone before. You could say he spoiled me, but that was just his love spilling over in physical ways. He always woke up earlier then me and would turn on the heat, so the house would be warm when I got out of bed. He would bring the groceries in from the car for me. He would set the alarm every night; I never had to worry about doing it. He would walk through the house every night and make sure everything was locked and turned off. He would haul all our holiday decorations to and from the shed. He would make me baths; with bubbles and salts and candles; without me ever asking; he could just tell that I needed one. He would wash my hair for me when I was having a bad day. He would sleep with his hand on my hip. âGod made us so my hand fits perfectly on your hip,â he would say. He would hold my hand all the time, even after 15 years of marriage. He would bring me Tylenol and Sudafed when I was sick; he just knew I needed it and I hadnât taken it on my own. He would bring me warm socks; he could just tell my feet were cold. At restaurants, he always ordered something he knew I would like so he could trade with me if I didnât like what I ordered. This turned out to be the case frequently. Dan was the only one who always called me Jennifer. He thought it was beautiful and elegant. Everyone else calls me Jenny.
Until the day he died, Dan put other people before himself: all other people. It didnât matter if you were his brother, his mother, a random kid at church, a homeless person on the street, someone who was mentally ill, or his wife and daughter. Dan was always more concerned about othersâ wellbeing than his own. A friend of ours wrote about Dan:
Dan was always ready to defend the weak and offer love in the face of dogmatism, fear, and bigotry. In the evangelical Christian world I grew up in, where âloveâ is usually prefaced by âtoughâ and hating the sin is more important than loving the sinner, Dan stood out in stark contrast.
One night after youth group, Dan and another youth pastor took a small group of kids, myself included, into downtown Boise to meet the homeless teens he was helping. That night, Dan did something very small, very insignificant that changed my worldview and influenced how I have interacted with homeless and downtrodden people ever since.
What did he do, you may ask? Only this: He took out a cigarette lighter and lit the cigarette of a person who wanted to smoke. He didnât make a fuss about it, many people probably would not have noticed it, but I did. Dan was not a smoker. He carried the lighter because he wanted to be the friend who offered a light in the darkness.
To be clear, Dan was not advocating smoking; if any of these kids had wanted to quit smoking he would have been the first to offer help. He did this in order to meet people where they were at, not where he thought they ought to be.
Dan did not âlove the sinner, hate the sinâ. He did not even âlove the sinnerâ. He just loved. Full stop. Without exception and without caveat.
Dan wrote once:
I believe in compassion as one of the highest virtues one can strive for⌠I have subsequently learned that the wise thing to do is look for God in every person I interact with and every occasion I find myself in. Time and again God humbles me by allowing me a glimpse of himself where I least expect it-in the tears of an oppositional defiant child, in the clingy behavior of his dependent mother, even in the delusions of a profoundly mentally ill man who just talked to Jesus the night before.
Thatâs just how he viewed the world. I donât know if I know of anyone more self-sacrificing then Dan. Perhaps in movies or famous people like Mother Theresa, but in my own little circle of the world it was Dan. He was the guy that would give you the shirt off his back; I have literally seen him do just that several times. He was the guy that, when I was worried about how broke we were, was donating money to causes because he felt they needed it more than we did. He came home once with no shoes because he met someone that didnât have any and he had more in his closet. He never worried about himself or what he needed or even wanted, except for the occasional tattoo. He was way more concerned about helping others or spoiling India and me.
Dan was doing so much good in the world, and he could have done so much more. At his funeral I ended my eulogy by saying,
Every day that you saw Dan you witnessed love, and your lives were better for it.
In The Princess Bride, Wesley declares, âDeath cannot stop true love.â I used to wholeheartedly agree with. Yes! Death cannot stop true love. If you truly love someone, death will not and cannot stop you from being together. Just look at Wesley and Buttercup! Death didn't stop them. That was Dan and me. We had true love forever. Death would not stop us from our love; we would find a way around it. Then Dan had a seizure one night and died. Just died, out of nowhere. His boat wasn't captured by pirates, although I'm sure he would have preferred to go out that way. Even now, I am hoping he can come back, that it was all some huge mistake, that the evil villain told me he was dead, but really he was taking over the ship, building immunity to iocane powder, and on his way back to me. Death cannot stop our love.
Yes, I hate that line. Danâs dead for real, not like in a fairy tale where there is some loophole, this is real life. As much as we loved each other, he died anyway.
One variation of a modern-day pioneer may be defined as someone who opens doors to previously taboo topics, such as grief, so others won't have to navigate the world alone. This book does this. The author peels back the curtain and allows us within her grief journey where she holds nothing back.
I think this book is best for those readers that are themselves grieving. This book will commiserate with you. It will help you to feel understood and like there is someone else out there on the planet who gets you. Within that, there is the sense of community and the tiniest sliver of hope.
Through the author's own journey you will have a better understanding of what grief looks like. The many forms it may take. How seemingly ordinary things and moments make you weep. Of course, if you too are grieving, you already know this. However, through the author's own journey you'll also find out there's help for you if you ask for it; and, you'll find reassurance that it's okay if you need things like anti-depressants or medications to treat anxiety. The author does a great job of explaining how the medication doesn't stop you from feeling, it doesn't numb your grief, but it does provide you with room to breath and with the necessary space you need to be able to function.
The best parts of this book to me were the chapter endings as they wrapped up things in a manner that was on point! Words that linger, hit home, straight to the heart. Words that have stayed with me, like those found on page 106: "That was a good dream. That was a good life."
The other really good parts of this book are to be found inside of its humor. Heavy-laden laughs in the midst of sadness, but there was still snarky humor to be found such as ensuring part of her husband would forever be stuck at work. For as much as I cried while reading this book I also laughed out loud!
I debated between a 3 and a 4 star rating for this book. The writing is a bit choppy. A bit jumbled. Blunt. Of course, grief too is like that. I landed on 4 stars because half stars are unable to be given and 4 stars seems to be most fitting.
I appreciate greatly the author's inclusion of her husband's words. I'm glad that through his wife his words have been published. Dan's parting words to us, as chosen by his wife, are profound, "If I can help someone find meaning and purpose in their sadness, if I can help them grow from the sadness and learn to cope with the sadness and still enjoy the image of God inside them, then I have brought them joy.â This too is the author's wish and I hope you find within your own life that she and her husband have succeeded. May you find your way to a joy that is able to co-exist alongisde of your pain. In Jesus' Name, Amen.