What does it look like to live fully while someone you love is dying?
That’s the question Tony Stewart answered with courage, honesty, and love when he joined me on Grief 2 Growth. We talked about his six-year journey walking beside his wife, Lynn, through her diagnosis with incurable lung cancer. It’s a story that stayed with me long after the conversation ended.
And it’s one I believe we all need to hear—because living with terminal illness as a couple is something few people talk about honestly.
Tony doesn’t just share what happened. He shares how it felt—the confusion, the exhaustion, the tenderness, the moments of joy, and the ache of anticipatory grief. His story is a guidebook for anyone navigating love, loss, and life at the edge of mortality.
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📞 The Phone Call That Changed Everything
Tony told me about the moment it all began. It was a Sunday. Lynn wasn’t feeling well. She had been dealing with strange digestive symptoms for weeks, and now a pain in her back had become constant.
Then the phone rang.
Their doctor had read the MRI early. There were tumors—in her spine, and in her lungs. A follow-up with an oncologist was urgent.
In that moment, their entire life shifted.
They sat down together at their kitchen table, held hands, and—after nearly 30 years of marriage—told each other “I love you” more than they ever had before.
That hit me hard. Because whether your loved one dies suddenly, as my daughter Shayna did, or slowly from a terminal diagnosis, the truth is the same: your life splits in two—before and after.
💑 Choosing How to Live While Dying
Tony made it clear—this is not a story about dying. It’s a story about living.
After Lynn’s diagnosis, they didn’t focus on statistics or timelines. They focused on presence.
They found a clinical trial—a new immunotherapy drug that, against the odds, gave them five more years together. During that time, they learned how to live with cancer. It wasn’t easy. Lynn’s spine had been damaged by tumors and radiation. There were hospital stays, pain management struggles, and real limitations.
But there was also art, laughter, walks with friends, and moments of deep connection.
Tony said, “We had to accept that our life had changed forever—but we also decided not to waste a minute of it.”
That’s the paradox: Terminal illness often makes room for deeper living.
🧑⚕️ What It Means to Be a Caregiver
As I listened to Tony describe his experience, I kept thinking about how hard it is for partners—especially men—to talk about the emotional toll of caregiving.
Tony was brutally honest. He described the weight he carried in silence, trying to be strong for Lynn while his own grief simmered just below the surface.
He admitted something most caregivers never say out loud: there were moments he wanted it to be over. Not because he didn’t love Lynn—but because the exhaustion, the fear, and the uncertainty were overwhelming.
Eventually, he broke down—collapsed sobbing and said, “I can’t do this anymore.” And Lynn didn’t judge him. She listened. That moment, he said, changed everything.
With her encouragement, he started seeing a therapist. He also began sharing updates with friends and family on CaringBridge. That online journal became a lifeline—for both of them.
“CaringBridge let me say the things I couldn’t say out loud. It gave our friends the real story—and gave Lynn space to just be when she saw them.”
🐅 The Meaning of “Carrying the Tiger”
I asked Tony about the book title. He told me it came from a Tai Chi practice, where participants “carry the tiger”—a symbolic gesture of taking something powerful and scary, lifting it, and setting it down gently on a distant mountaintop.
Lynn had asked her friend, “Can you carry some tigers for me? And can you teach me how to carry my own?”
That line gave me chills.
For six years, they carried the tiger together.
🕊️ Choosing Hospice
Eventually, the cancer outpaced the treatments. A second clinical trial didn’t work. The tumors spread into Lynn’s bones—and then into her brain.
At one point, a neurosurgeon urged immediate brain radiation. But Lynn looked at Tony and said, “I can’t go back to the hospital tomorrow.”
Tony struggled. He wanted more time. He didn’t want to say goodbye.
But then their oncologist—someone they had known for six years—called and said words that gave them peace:
“Sometimes, enough is enough.”
With that, Lynn made her decision.
They entered hospice.
Tony told me it was the saddest day of his life—and also the most sacred.
💬 Her Final Words: A Gift of Permission
In one of their last conversations, Lynn asked Tony what he thought his future would look like. He told her he hoped to find love again someday, years down the road.
She paused, nodded, and said:
“I don’t want you to have another girlfriend…But yes, I do want you to have another girlfriend.”
Even in the face of death, Lynn found the courage to give Tony permission to go on living.
That moment—those four short sentences—became a powerful part of Tony’s healing. Not a roadmap, not a fix, but a gift of freedom to move forward when the time was right.
🌈 Grieving While Loving Again
Years later, Tony did find love again—with a woman named Cordelia. But the guilt and confusion didn’t disappear.
Even with Lynn’s blessing, grief made everything complicated.
“Every time I found myself pulling away from Cordelia, I realized I wasn’t angry at her—I was just still in love with Lynn.”
This part of Tony’s story is something so many widowed people wrestle with. Can you love someone new without letting go of the person you lost?
Tony’s answer is yes.
“I didn’t have to replace Lynn to love again. I just had to make space.”
That resonated deeply with me. Because so many of us in grief fear moving on means moving away—but it doesn’t. It means expanding our hearts.
📚 Why Carrying the Tiger Is So Important
There are many books about grief—but Tony’s memoir is different.
It doesn’t just talk about the grief that comes after death. It walks us through all three phases:
* Living with terminal illness as a couple
* Supporting a peaceful death
* Grieving while still loving
Tony doesn’t skip the hard parts. He doesn’t sugarcoat the pain. But he also shows us the sacredness of presence, the healing power of being witnessed, and the radical courage it takes to keep your heart open through it all.
“Grief is love with nowhere to go,” he told me. “But eventually, the love finds a way forward.”
💭 For Anyone Still in the Fire
If you’re reading this and you’re currently walking through the shadow of terminal illness with someone you love—or if you’re trying to make sense of life after loss—please hear this:
You are not alone.You are not broken.And this will not always feel the way it feels right now.
Tony told me that he still cries for Lynn—even years later. But now, those tears come with smiles. Now, her memory brings comfort as much as it brings pain.
If you’re not there yet, that’s okay.You’re exactly where you need to be.
💌 Final Thoughts
This conversation with Tony changed me.
It reminded me that grief isn’t just about death—it’s about the love that comes before, during, and after. It’s about how we show up when things fall apart. And it’s about the stories we carry forward.
If you want to go deeper into Tony and Lynn’s story, I highly recommend reading his memoir:👉 Carrying the Tiger – by Tony StewartAvailable in print, eBook, and audiobook (narrated by Tony himself).
If you’d like to continue this journey with me and access deeper reflections, exclusive podcast extras, and community insights, I invite you to:
📘 About Me
Brian D. Smith is the host of Grief 2 Growth, certified grief educator, and author of Grief 2 Growth: Planted. Not Buried. He helps people navigate loss by uncovering the growth that grief can offer.
Follow the podcast for more heart-opening conversations that honor both pain and purpose.
