First, I’d like to congratulate Laurie Kolp and Beth Winter for joining the Pretzels and Bullfights arena at dverse poetry. Both are wonderful, warm, talented women, and they will no doubt present us with challenging prompts! I am adding this to the dverse Open Mic Night in their honor.
Sunday Scribblings (#344) asked for poems about healing. This is also at my “home base” blog, Poets United.
Healing and Healing
“But Aunt Nelda, God didn’t answer my prayer.”
And your prayer was…?
“I prayed for my mother to be healed.”
And what happened?
“She woke up one day in hospice – and,”
the boy breaks down in tears, tears hard won in a world that
doesn’t afford males the luxury of such a balm.
And?
“She was talkative, told me to stay in school,
reminded me of the walks we took in the forest,
pressing dried autumn leaves, all sorts of stuff.
Must have been hours, all about how I should
go to college and not decide my major right away,
that I should dabble with everything until
something catches me by the throat and won’t
let go! Funny, I’m only in eighth grade. Oh, and
the year she helped coach my baseball team, even though
she was the only mom to do that in the whole league. I
was embarrassed then, but I told her that day I was
so proud of her for doing it. I told her she had balls,
and she laughed so hard!”
And then?
“She seemed so well that afternoon, we thought she was
making a comeback, and that night I got on my knees and
thanked God for healing her. The next day, she died.”
Are you angry with God?
“Damn straight. Really pissed. I don’t give a shit about God
anymore. He didn’t give me what I needed most, my mom.
First, He made her suffer with the cancer, the chemo, the
radiation, and then he didn’t let her live.”
What do you think your mom needed?
“Well, healing, coming home, taking care of Dad, seeing
friends. Like it was last year.”
Honey, listen to me.
There’s healing and there’s Healing.
The first, you come home from the hospital, back to
the way things were for the most part, until the cancer
returns, as it often does, and you go through all the pain
and suffering and indignity all over again, until eventually,
your body gives up.
The second, you go home to God.
It’s called the Final Healing.
Your mom went through three rounds with the cancer, and
she didn’t have anything left to fight it. But one thing
God did give you was one last day to talk. It was her way of
saying goodbye, giving you the best memories as a gift.
Don’t blame your mom; she didn’t give up. And yell
all you want to at God, because God has the
widest shoulders you can imagine. God’s giving you
the gift of tears right now.
“So she was healed… but not in the way I wanted?”
Hon, we pray to God for all sorts of things, and
you prayed for your mother to have the best. It
wasn’t what you expected, but remember this:
Your mom doesn’t hurt anymore, doesn’t cry out
in her sleep from pain at 2 a.m. And she left with us
her greatest gift to the world – you.. You hold her
stories, you have her eyes. And trust me:
One day, you will know that God loves you.
Even when you yell and swear at him, God
still “gives a shit” about you. I know it.
So go to a counselor, here’s a card. After my mom died,
I screamed into pillows at my therapist’s office.
Sean, it was cleansing and it healed my grief.
So go ahead, rail at God, and you’ll do fine.
C’mere and give your auntie a hug…
and I dare you not to let go first.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
gwaihirj
This is beautiful.
Sharp Little Pencil
Thank you. A composite of several stories from real life. Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil
Just went on your site. Oh, Lord, you write great stories. I love little Bruce! A
Roger Green
There is that strange rallying that takes place before death, sometimes. Oddly enough, one of the characters n Grey’s Anatomy, Mark Sloane, experienced it big time, before he died. When my dad died, and when my brother-in-law died, I was dealing with people REALLY pissed with God.
Sharp Little Pencil
Roger, after all my bedside visits with guys dying of AIDS in the 80s, I remember that was the hardest part. They were pissed, yet they were wanting reassurance. I was not a believer per se but told them all that, no matter what, they were going to a place of embrace, of light, and that God didn’t think any less of them than anyone else. After they had been rejected by families and churches, it seemed to help… but yes, being mad at God is, to me, a way of venting and healing a bit.
brian miller
this is a hard reality….when we do not get what we hoped from god or whomever we believe in…understanding sometimes what we need and what is best is not always the same…and god is an easy target as sHe does not fight back…i would probably have a hard time in this conversation though if it was me…unless it had been a while…hard to rationalize in the moment….
hey left you a response @dverse….email me your link @ btm2007(at)yahoo and i will link you in…
brian miller
so is this the one you want linked?
Sharp Little Pencil
Brian, so true. I went through years of non-belief… yet, when I looked back later, God’s fingerprints were all over my life. In choices made, in chances I decided not to take. That still small voice, whispering in the ear that chose to hear… you know?
tigerbrite
The answer is not to fight. Take what the universe wants to give you. You may find it is just what you wanted or needed. Spirits move on and mostly are satisfied to do so. Love and healing. XX
Sharp Little Pencil
That’s the easiest lesson to learn, but for some folks, the hardest to accept. Surrender to the cosmos, the universe, Creation… we cling so hard to this life, when there is so much more waiting… Loved this comment. Tige!
markwindham
excellent…we may ‘know’ that His ways are not our ways, but that rarely makes us feel better or understand when in that moment of hurt. Powerful words as always Amy.
Sharp Little Pencil
Accepting, letting go of what so many long to cling to (because it’s familiar? Reassuring?) is not a common part of the human condition. Fear of death is such a waste of one’s last days. If I am granted time to know I’m actually going, I’ll surround myself with good friends and give and accept all the hugs… and go on, knowing that peace awaits.
Not everyone feels this promise awaits them, and that makes me a little sad, because I’ve seen it – just a glimpse. It’s beautiful. Thanks, Mark. A
Sherry Blue Sky
Oh that is one lucky boy, to have such a wise Auntie……he will be all right. Wowzers, Amy. Loved this SO MUCH!!!!!!!
Sharp Little Pencil
Thanks, Sherry. A composite of several situations, but all the same ending… Love, Amy
Libby
I like your poem. As a nurse I have witnessed both healing and Healing. The healing is praised, God be thanked, thank you doctor, etc. I’ve seen Healing go both ways.
Sharp Little Pencil
Libby, thanks for commenting. You more than most understand this concept, I’m sure. That final Healing should be seen as a relief and release for the suffering patient… not a punishment for those left behind, even though they are grieving. Bless you. Amy
Belva@MainelyMugUps
This is a great piece and you are a wise auntie!
Sharp Little Pencil
Can’t take all credit, Belva. This was a compilation of a few stories, but one of them is mine, and the main point is one I’ve held for years. Thanks so much, A
Debbie
What a beautiful gift for all of us . .and for all the Sean’s. Thank you , Amy!
oldegg
Curiously this was very personal for me having lost my wife nearly two years ago. In the last few weeks she was in hospital she wanted me to be with her all the time even though the doctors were still talking about positive outcomes, even rehab prior to coming home again. Of course this didn’t happen as 12 years of illness with all manner of treatment, remissions and relapses can only last so long. Those 12 years though were some of our most precious, loving, fulfilling years and when I got the phone call so shortly after I had left her side one evening her life was not only over it was complete with nothing missing. I placed a palm cross she had kept, that I found in a drawer, in her hands in her coffin. I think she liked that.
Thank you for your poem of healing Amy.
keiths ramblings
Everyone needs an Aunt Nelda! A delightful piece.
kaykuala
Using logic and proper reasoning can save the day! You have done just that, Amy. I think you left a good impression on the boy. Nicely!
Hank
Jae Rose
You always write with humility..but this is really giving voice to something perhaps everyone who reads can associate with..in some way..I appreciate the explanation of healing and Healing..am also very pleased to hear god has broad shoulders..good to have you back..Jae x
Joseph Harker
I expect you’ll post soon about this, but I just want to say: rock on, Wisconsin. 🙂
Kim Nelson
So touching, Amy. Raw and real, as is so blessedly often your work. One of my closest friends died from cancer, leaving behind two teens. This piece mirrors our experience in many ways. This is why I love creating with words. We are connected by our similarities, then instructed by the differences. Life. It is Love.
vivinfrance
A wonderful Aunt. The broad shoulders of God give great comfort.
Webster
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