Here is the place,
soft amber light
warm hands
cool breeze.
Here is the circle,
feel the connection
crackling completeness
arms tight,
hearts warm.
Here is love,
wrapped around you,
holding you up,
sending you strength.
Here is peace.
Here is hope.
Here is now.
.
.
For Londa.
Sometimes
there is no why
there simply is.
Your body
came into the world
like this.
The cancer in your family line.
The inclination to heart disease.
That birth defect.
Desperate fear
brings joy to snake oil salesmen
who’ll tell you whatever you need to hear.
Fake healers with degrees from schools of blarney.
Double blind research shows it’s no different that a placebo.
You don’t need an expensive sugar pill;
Just accept the hope
without the hype.
Believe you will get better,
and your body will believe you,
without sharing fake cures that might kill you,
without wasted dollars in fake cures flushed
away, and if your body doesn’t accept cure,
live today.
Family and friends
gather for funeral to
tell stories:
laughter
tears
admiration
appreciation.
I hope she knew
she touched this many.
that they’d have to
bring in extra chairs,
though she was a newcomer
to this community.
When cancer is found,
why not call everyone
to celebrate the life
while the body is there to hear?
Why not send her off for chemo
with these stories of love,
respect, and support?
Why wait to gather
when she’s not here
to receive the blessing?
.
.
.
Memorial today, packed house to celebrate Auntie Linda. I just kept wishing she’d been here to know how many lives she’d touched.
I was reminded of a send off my friend had for her husband when he was heading south for radiation, bone marrow transplant, etc. Relatives came from afar, friends packed the building. We sang, we told stories, we laughed, we sent him off with blessings for his young family, knowing in his heart how he’d inspired people. When he passed away a few months later, we gathered all again with sadder hearts, but that time together lifting him up has stayed with me as a very precious occasion to support a young family in a time of tragedy.
One tumour
one bed
two hands clasped
four walls
five chairs
eleven shallow breaths a minute
twenty-four syringes of pain meds
counting down now
four days since you ate
five days since you spoke
how many hours
of life?
.
.
.
Good bye Auntie Linda
who passed away at 10 p.m. June 26, 2014
apparently moments before I wrote this poem.
I’d been with her at 9 p.m.
.
Six months ago
you were fighting to play pickle ball
laughing on the small court
stretching your racket to hit the ball
stumbling and crashing onto the court,
filling your head with
flashing white fireworks,
exploding star bursts.
Now
you are fighting for two more weeks
laughing with guests in the small room,
stretching your life to see your children
stumbling and crashing against time
filling your belly with fluid,
flashing white pain
imploding your life
.
.
.
For Auntie Linda
She was dazzling
in the cosmetic department
getting lessons in drawing eye brows.
Her silver hair was cut
power short.
Stunning.
It emphasized her features:
glorious twinkling eyes
perfect nose
determined mouth.
Who needs make up
to add to that beauty?
Her hair set her above,
showed her panache,
made me smile,
and look twice.
Then she thanked the clerk
for the lesson,
set on a chemo cap
and her vitality
disappeared.
Farewell Jack August 22, 2011
Tags: cancer, Jack Layton, Letter to Canadians, NDP, New Democratic Party, postaday2011
I was so sorry to hear today about the death of Jack Layton, the leader of Canada’s New Democratic Party. Layton was a statesman whom people trusted and respected. His personal integrity made him one of the most popular politicians in Canada, and when the NDP became the official opposition in the last election, it was a first for the party, and it was mostly because people trusted Layton above the other options.
Layton’s battle with cancer was public. At a recent press conference when he announced that he was stepping down to concentrate on treatment for new cancers, the nation was shocked to see how ill he looked. Today our nation is flying flags at half-mast in his honour, and a movement is afoot to put a candle in your window at 9 pm to celebrate his life.
He left his wife Olivia with a letter to Canadians. His parting words are
Farewell, Jack. We’re going to miss your integrity, values and abilities. We’ll do our best to follow in your footsteps and change the world for the better.
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