"A widow's thank you."
I got an email. And I'm a wreck this morning because of it.
This morning has been a whirlwind. I woke up late and had a text from a friend asking me about what my daughter was wearing to softball camp, because his daughter was struggling with what to wear.
“Softball camp? That’s today?! Shoot!”
We scrambled, made it halfway through, and I felt like a failure. Ugh.
And then as I sat there watching my daughter trying to catch up and feeling like an awful dad, I opened up my email. There was an email from a woman I’ll call Cassey. As I read it, I teared up. In fact, I had to stop. I saved it for when I got home.
After reading the whole thing, I fully cried. I sent it to my wife. She cried. And I want to share it with you. I’ve changed some of it to protect the woman who sent it. (Know that if you ever send me something, I’ll do the same if I feel like others can benefit from it.) But I want you to see a few things.
Addiction is sneaky. It doesn’t always look like how you’d expect.
You can love Jesus and be pursuing Jesus and still struggle.
All it takes is one lie to change your life.
I am here for you. It’s why I started my nonprofit, Veritas Recovery. If you are Cassey’s husband, REACH OUT. Me and my team can help. veritasrecovery.org.
Here is Cassey’s email, followed by my response…
Subject: A Widow’s Thank You
Message: Jonathon,
Today, your testimony, which I listened to on the Nothing Wasted Ministries Podcast, stopped me in my tracks. I found myself replaying portions multiple times before I could even find the words to respond.
Two years ago, my husband Chad took his life by suicide. The note later found simply said that alcohol had killed him. And while I daily surrender the mystery of suicide to Jesus, there has not been a month that has gone by that I haven’t tried to find the words my husband could never fully express to me.
As I closed my eyes and listened to your journey as a Christian alcoholic, I heard pieces of Chad in ways I never had before.
When you mentioned that you could “feel it coming to an end,” it shook me deeply. In the final months of his life, Chad had fully surrendered his life to Christ. For the first time in our marriage, he began seeking help for the trauma and pain rooted in his childhood. He was finally opening doors he had spent years keeping locked. From the outside, he had everything — he was at the height of his career, had two beautiful boys, and all the accolades that would make most people think he was thriving. Yet after being caught drinking at work and losing his job, something inside him broke. In one devastating moment, he acted on the lie Satan had whispered to him for years: worthless.
I also resonated so deeply with your wife’s perspective. The deception and secrecy often hurt even more than the drinking itself. I felt like I always knew something was there, yet Chad could go months sober. He was what many would call a “functioning alcoholic,” and because he didn’t fit the stereotypical mold, it was easy for others — and honestly even me at times — to miss how deeply he was struggling beneath the surface.
Your honesty gave language to things I have wrestled with silently for years. It also gave me compassion for the internal battle he likely fought but could never fully articulate.
I was especially moved when you spoke about EMDR therapy and finding Christian-centered resources for healing trauma. I now have a 16-year-old and a 10-year-old boy who are navigating the impact of this tragedy, and I am constantly praying for wisdom on how to help them heal well instead of simply survive. If you have any trusted resources, ministries, counselors, books, or guidance you would be willing to share, I would be incredibly grateful.
Thank you for your courage in writing this book and sharing your story so openly. You probably never imagined your words would reach a grieving widow two years later and help her better understand the man she loved — but they did.
Your story mattered today. Thank you
Cassey
My response:
Hey Cassey,
I honestly don’t even fully know how to respond to this email other than to say thank you for sharing something so deeply personal and painful with me. I also read it to my wife, and she cried. I think part of why it affected her so deeply is because she immediately saw how easily your story could have become our story. That realization hit both of us hard.
And honestly, as heartbreaking as your email is, I’m also incredibly grateful you sent it because it captures something I’ve tried to communicate for a long time: so many people who are struggling deeply with alcohol, shame, trauma, secrecy, and despair do not fit the stereotype people expect. From the outside, they often look successful, functional, respected, and even spiritually engaged. Meanwhile, internally, they are unraveling. Your description of Chad carried so many echoes of things I’ve heard from others—and things I myself experienced internally. Especially that feeling of finally beginning to confront old pain and trauma, only to simultaneously feel overwhelmed by shame and the lies.
I’m deeply sorry, Cassey. Truly. And I can only imagine how complicated the grief has been.
But I do want to press into the comfort that Chad had surrendered his life to Christ and had begun opening those locked doors. It really matters. I know there are still questions and mysteries and pain that remain this side of eternity, but Jesus was pursuing your husband even in the middle of all that darkness.
And honestly, your boys are incredibly blessed to have a mother who is thinking not merely about surviving this tragedy, but about helping them heal well. That says a lot about you.
If it would ever feel encouraging or helpful, I’d love for you to join our Sunday night online Gospel-centered recovery group sometime. We have a number of spouses and family members in the group in addition to people personally struggling with addiction, and I think you would find a lot of understanding, grace, and honesty there. There’s never any pressure to talk, and people are welcome to simply listen, keep cameras off, or remain anonymous if they’d prefer.
We meet Sundays at 7pm CT via Zoom: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/82503006841?pwd=7B5BT7rzA89VyLY4ysaAvwPtjT6mhx.1
As for resources, one of the books that has helped me tremendously in suffering is The Problem of Pain by C. S. Lewis. It’s one of my favorite books, and while it doesn’t answer every question, it helped ground me in important truths about suffering, pain, and the character of God. I’d also strongly encourage you to explore the resources from CCEF (Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation). They have some incredibly thoughtful, Gospel-centered material on trauma, grief, suffering, shame, and counseling.
And if you haven’t already, I would really encourage continuing to pursue strong trauma-informed Christian counseling for both you and the boys. EMDR from a Christian perspective was incredibly helpful for my wife and me personally.
How are your boys doing right now? And how are you doing spiritually in the middle of all this? Have you felt supported by your local church and community? And where exactly are you located?
Thank you again for sending this. It was one of those emails that stays with you.
Best,
Jon
If you need me, I’ll be here just spending time with God and processing all he has done, and what he is calling me to do.
If you want to join in that so that we can reach the Chads of the world, please do. There are more of them than you think.
