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A Story of Jorrow: I Put the Coffee On

Inheritance of Hope family member Kimberly Matthews-Hermans shares how she has experienced “jorrow”—joy in the midst of sorrow—while facing the terminal illnesss and loss of her husband Jasan.

I put the coffee on.

This might not seem like a profound phrase to you. Perhaps you have heard it a thousand times. If any of you are coffee lovers, you know that waking up to a fresh, hot cup of java is a wonderful thing. As you are waking up, you stretch, you get a whiff of it; It almost helps you get out of bed on those days when being under the covers feels cozier and much more desirable than the cold floor. It sweetens the experience all the more when your loved one is the one who has made that coffee for you.
That was Jasan. With a busy life of raising kids and working, Jasan and I were always looking for little ways to connect and share joy together. He would put the coffee on the night before and make sure it was ready. He would make it exactly how I liked it and bring in a hot cup for me, while I was getting ready to leave early to go to my teaching job. That was our routine in the early years of our life together, when our older two children were young and we had the privilege of Jasan being able to be a stay-at-home Dad. We would often have a cup together and connect before the busyness of the day. This wasn’t something that I ever asked him to do; he seemed to always be looking for ways to show his love for me.
Jasan was diagnosed with ALS in 2020 and went to his heavenly home in 2023. In his later years, I was the one who brought the coffee. I bought him special coffee cups and straws, stocked his favorites near his orange K-CUP machine, made sure he had plenty of sugar, rallied others to bring him his (much too sweetened) coffee to offer him some social time when I couldn’t be there. I smiled and thanked everyone for meeting his needs, while unknowingly mourning the loss of something that was originally just “ours.” Looking back now, those were my first recollections of the “jorrow” way of life. I was experiencing joy while also walking in this heavy sorrow; carrying and navigating both, simultaneously.
A disabled man and his wife hold hands in the car. In the background are cups of iced coffee.
I had peace, knowing that Jasan was where he needed to be, accepting what was to be, thankful that he was physically still with us and we were continuing to make memories as a family, yet still experiencing and navigating this huge sorrow. At home, I was not putting the coffee on. In fact, I was angry about putting the coffee on myself. Something that took a whopping three minutes to do, I would avoid. I would get angry and resentful. I would feel tremendous sadness. It literally pained me to make the coffee. Subconsciously, if I couldn’t have coffee with Jasan bringing it to me…bringing me his love wrapped up in a warm mug, well, I just didn’t want it. But I still had peace. I was still intentionally choosing joy in the moments, on a daily basis.

Being with a spouse with a terminal diagnosis can be like that. For me, one day I was going along thinking that I was self-sufficient, and then after a short amount of time, I realized how much I needed other people. I learned that walking this ALS journey is literally impossible without a tribe. Magnified 1000 fold for the person with the diagnosis, I would suppose. Inheritance of Hope became part of that tribe for Jasan and I. The Friday Morning Gathering group became the friends and family that held us up, and that we held up. This is where “jorrow” was born. We marvelled, how could we, who were all experiencing a terminal diagnosis of a loved one, or a diagnosis ourselves, walking through the valley of the shadow of death, still laugh and cry tears of joy, and navigate all the sorrow? “Jorrow” is the only way. It IS possible to hold space for both in your life. In fact, I think it is imperative.

August marked two years on this earth without Jasan. My JAM. My JBear. The grief at times is still palpable. The joy of our memories is still vivid. Remembering and recognizing him through our children, through his family and our friends brings “jorrow” on a daily basis. A few weeks ago, it dawned on me that for a few days consistently, I had put the coffee on.
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