RISE AND FALL
by
Umamaheswari Anandane
RISE AND FALL
by
Umamaheswari Anandane
DEATH BY CANCER
Excerpt from With Heart Divided
(Autobiography)
by
Donna Swanson
What do you say about dying? Holding a hand that is already like a skeleton with skin stretched over it? Standing in back of his lounge chair and putting your hands gently on his shoulders for fear of hurting him? Kissing the top of his head where only a few strands of those once thick curls remain? Saying, “I love you.” trying to make up for all those times you did not say it before?
On the night before our son, Mac, died, Jacob stopped by his daddy’s chair on his way to bed and said, “Goodnight, Dad” Mac answered “Goodnight, Jake.” John and I and Dennie had been there all day and about 10:00 I went home to get some sleep. John stayed because Mac had begun to get really agitated in his hallucinations and he was afraid Mac, though weak, could throw himself out of his chair or hurt Shelby.
At 5:30 the next morning the phone rang and Dennie said I’d better come quickly. By the time I arrived Mac had just won his war. Satan had played his last card, death, and though he won a battle, he lost the war. Mac died with his father’s arms around his shoulders and his wife’s arms holding him. Shelby let the boys sleep until the undertaker had gone, then she sat in her chair with a child held close under each arm and told them their Daddy had gone to Heaven.
When we went with Shelby to make arrangements, the first thing she said was, “I never expected to be doing this at 33.” Both the visitation and funeral service were held in our Church for there was not enough room in the funeral home. The Director said he had never held a service with so many people in attendance. Shelby and John decided to bury Mac in the little cemetery about a quarter-mile from our home. Arrangements were made and now Mac’s grave is close by.
Of course Mac is not there. He has changed the landscape of Heaven for us. No longer is it a place just to be talked about in sermons or read about in the Bible. Now it is where Mac is. And we wonder what he’s doing today. We see Heaven through the eyes of sorrow and joy. And death has truly lost its sting.
My family has lost many members to cancer; two sisters, a brother, my mother and several cousins. When the battle is done and the tears have dried, the heart regains its equilibrium and life goes on. But for the poet, part of the healing process is putting into words our thoughts and the thoughts we see reflected in the eyes of our loved ones. These are written for my son, Mac, and my sister Jackie who died of ovarian cancer.
FROM THE SHADOWS
I step back into the shadow,
beyond the light of my family’s
celebration.
Storing memories
that must last through eternity.
I watch for the last time
each milestone celebration;
each small moment.
I take in the wonder
of the ordinary:
The smile of the morning,
The uncertain rest of the night
and the miracle of a day renewed.
As eternity beckons
I reach for the temporal,
for one last touch of mortality.
But I watch from the shadows.
© cover art, narrative, and poem 2011, Donna Swanson, all rights reserved
Donna Swanson was born during the Great Depression in 1938 to an Indiana farm family.Youngest of eight children and a twin, she has lived her entire life in Warren County, Indiana. A high school graduate, she chose to marry and raise a family rather than attend college; although she took classes in art, Koine’ Greek and psychology after marriage. She has written nine books: Mind Song, published by The Upper Room in Nashville, TN; Rachel’s Daughters, The Windfallow Chronicles (a double trilogy), self-published; Splinters of Light, yet to be published, and the present autobiography. A poem, Minnie Remembers, has become a standard tool in the study of gerontology, made into a documentary film by United Methodist Communications, and given the Golden Eagle Film Award. It has been reprinted in most denominational publications and over twenty-five books. Mrs. Swanson is a Bible scholar and taught adult Bible classes for over forty years. She began prayer and share groups for women in two area Churches and hosted a teenage “rap” group in her home for four years. She counts among her mentors college professors, authors and ministers. Donna blogs at Mindsinger.
“I AM NO LONGER AFRAID…” Deena Metzger.
DEENA METZGER INSCRIBES A TREE
by
Jamie Dedes
Ms. Metzger is a poet and playwright, essayist and novelist, and a healing storyteller. I wish her work was around in time for my mom who died of breast and colon cancer. Trees: Essays and Pieces is Deena Metzger’s first healing book and it includes the play The Woman Who Slept With Men to Take the War Out of Them. She wrote the book to heal from her experience of cancer and mastectomy.
I love the brave picture above on a poster designed by Sheila Levrant de Bretteville, copyrighted and posted here under “fair use.” It’s also on the cover of Ms. Metzger’s book. You can order posters or postcards HERE if you care to. I don’t know if you can make it out, but Ms. Metzger had a tatoo done over her mastectomy scar. It’s a tree branch.
I am no longer afraid of mirrors where I see the sign of the amazon, the one who shoots arrows.
There was a fine red line across my chest where a knife entered,
but now a branch winds about the scar and travels from arm to heart.
Green leaves cover the branch, grapes hang there and a bird appears.
What grows in me now is vital and does not cause me harm. I think the bird is singing.
I have relinquished some of the scars.
I have designed my chest with the care given to an illuminated manuscript.
I am no longer ashamed to make love. Love is a battle I can win.
I have the body of a warrior who does not kill or wound.
On the book of my body, I have permanently inscribed a tree.
Excerpt from Tree: Essays and Pieces by Deena Metzger
Jamie Dedes ~ Jamie is a former freelance feature writer and columnist whose topic specialties were employment, vocational training, and business. She finds the blessing of medical retirement to be more time to indulge in her poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction. She has two novels in progress, one in final edits, and is pulling together a poetry collection. Her primary playground is Musing by Moonlight. She is the founder and editor/administrator of Into the Bardo. Jamie’s mother was diagnosed with cancer the first time at thirty-six. She went three rounds with breast cancer, one with thyroid cancer, and died at seventy-six of breast and colon cancer.
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A GIFT FROM CANCER
by
Dilys Wood
Some friends of mine who suffered cancer and did not survive in the longer term were, as it happens, exceptional people with a special gift for sharing. That’s how I come to know that there can be shared happiness even when a friend is diagnosed with a serious illness. When time is short, inhibition may fly out of the window. You may feel ‘licensed’ to talk freely about every aspect of both your lives.There are no excuses for not doing the things you meant to do together. Boring daily chores just have to give way to what, at normal times, might seem a whim.
In fact, the more ‘whims’ your friend has the more delighted you feel to be able to help, even though, when someone is getting weak, there can be problems. If not used to being a caretaker, you sometimes feel stupid, inadequate and guilty. A few weeks before her death, I took a friend abroad and was in tears of despair at Heathrow airport because I hadn’t allowed for her slow walking and general debility. Why hadn’t I booked help? When we reached our hotel in Amsterdam, I was tired and she was ready for an enjoyable evening. I’d learnt the lesson that energy levels in a cancer patient can be unpredictable: a remarkable will-power may come into play, with a passionate desire to do new things, go places, indulge a little lavish spending, even when out of character.
Within a week or so of her own death, a friend learnt that an aunt was housebound and set off to see her. It should not have been possible for her to take that journey by car, train, tube and bus, but she did it on her own. When she told me the details it was obvious she had had one of the happiest days of her life. This friend was one who talked about everything under the sun, including questioning everyone, from priests to shop-assistants, about their idea of eternity.
Another friend greeted everyone on the street with, “I’ve got terminal cancer”. Far from resenting this – and despite the fact that she had just moved house – her neighbours were soon actively helping in every possible way, visits, shopping, lifts in their cars, re-plumbing her washing-machine. By contrast, I was unhappy when the close family of a dying friend banned visitors from the house in her last fortnight. Did she feel that “closing out” was harsh, as I did, or was it the right decision?
For another friend, dying in a Hospice, things were different. Lying in the bay-window of a large sunny room she was dying in a combined greenhouse and luxury hotel. Surrounded by a mass of cut-flowers and house-plants, her bedside table groaning with fruit and chocolate, she was eager for visitors, warm, loving even while hallucinating. I will never forget her friendly indignation as she pointed to the vision we couldn’t see, “Look a tiger, apricot stripes!”
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Dilys Wood ~ Dilys is poet, editor and founder of Second Light Network of Women Poets. She has edited four anthologies of women’s poetry, mainly with Myra Schneider and has published two collections of poetry, Women Come to a Death and Antarctica. She is a great advocate for women poets, especially those who come to the art and craft of it late in life. Dilys mother died of cancer.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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SUPERHERO
Patti’s daughter, Lisa, and her granddaughter, Emily, at
this May’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in Boston, MA, USA
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JUNIOR SUPERHERO
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by
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Patti Maxwell
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PattiKen is a writer/blogger and was a corporate trainer and technical writer for many years, keeping her creative (and sometimes whimsical) side under wraps. The business world sometimes frowns on creativity. The opportunity to use her creative brain now is a lot like kicking off those heels at last and wiggling her toes. Blogging has given her a platform to showcase her writing and has brought many new friends into her life in the process. Patti is very grateful for both. Patti’s delights us with her short-stories, poems, and her slice of real-life vignettes. She blogs at: