By Lynn Lewis
“Turn your pain into purpose” is a statement I had heard used many times over the years, especially in relation to navigating life after it had been disrupted by a riveting experience. While I had faced and triumphed through a great many challenges during my lifetime, nothing prepared me for the one that was waiting in the balance. I had never truly considered the magnitude of what turning pain into purpose could feel like—or the agony of the process—until it happened to me.
On the late night of Sunday, August 4, 2019, as we were preparing for bed, my husband and I received a visit from the local police and fire departments. At that time, our beloved son, Daniel Brooks Lewis—a professional firefighter—had been missing for six days, his whereabouts unknown. The officials’ visit was to inform us that he had been found deceased in another state, about five hours from where we lived. Pain, agony, confusion and a million and one questions became my constant companions for days to follow. To add insult to injury, we were told that his death was by suicide.
Seven months after Daniel’s death, I made a declaration to myself: while this tragedy would be a part of my life for the rest of my life, I would not allow it to consume me. As painful as it was to bear, I was determined not to die with my one and only child. I decided I would not only survive—I would thrive in the aftermath of his death. I committed to living an impactful, meaningful and purposeful life. At the time, I didn’t know how, what it would look like or what it would entail. I certainly had no idea that my purpose was wrapped up in my pain, waiting to be revealed.
