My Uncle - A Poem

Dean Evans

Does anybody know
I wonder
will they care?
My cousin
just called me,
her father has cancer

He was my uncle who took me in
when I was pregnant;
my uncle who taught me to sing;
my uncle who taught me;
about cleaning carpets;
the value of having a life insurance policy;
who taught me how
to pick up a bowling ball the right way,
and get how to get a strike

My father's little brother,
my uncle called him all the time
to help him get through Dad's last days;
encouraging him to be positive,
to have faith.

He was once a little boy
who my parents took into their home to live
when he no longer had a mother and his Dad was sick.
When my Dad was in his last days
My uncle tolerated Mom's comments to him.
My uncle, no matter how old,
was still the little brother, to her.

I think I will tell my older brother
and I wonder,
does he even know my uncle?
Doe he remember him from 1955?
Will it matter to him
that the last of that generation
will soon no longer be with us?

I think I will tell my sister;
and I wonder,
how well does she know him?
Perhaps from the family gatherings we attended.

I think of my younger brother and believe
he might know my uncle best of all.
He hired our uncle to work for him at one time.

My cousin asked me
to inform this side of the family.
My uncle is sick.
The prognosis is terminal.
I am surprised at myself how emotional I feel.

Elizabeth Munroz
November 11, 2007

Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

She watched the hummingbird
through the slice of light in the curtains
wishing someone would come
and open them onto the world.

Just the branch showed the little gem
feeding on the red flower
like the blood ruby
on her hand
crossed over her heart
symbolizing their love.
Life was fleeting
and memories her last comfort.

Her loneliness taunted her
as she twisted in her bed
reaching for the light
with hope for freedom,

until the great grandchildren
came to visit,
and hope lay in the future
of new memories to be born.

In memory of Genevieve Borden Deane 

February 9, 1920 - December 12, 2006

Poem and Photos by Elizabeth Munroz

Healing

"...experience for yourself the potential of poetry to heal by feeling its power through your own voice. Many people have an intuitive sense that voice in general and poetry in particular can be healing. We have all experienced the comfort of soothing words. Finding the words to articulate a traumatic experience can bring relief.

.... People are frequently moved to write a poem in times of extremity. In mainstream culture there are subjects that are not talked about. They are taboo. For example, each of us is going to die, but we do not talk about dying. We are all in the dialogue of illness, death and dying, whether or not we are talking about it. Poetry gives us ways to talk about it.

...In the United States many people are scared of poetry. They have had bad experiences with it in school. People often believe that poetry is difficult or inaccessible or not relevant to them. Modern poetry is based on voice, and must be passed through our ears. This is where the sense is made. So, when you read this article and you see poetry,

Read it aloud
pass it through your ears
enjoy the
ride, and
know
the difference between poetry and prose
is that poetry is broken
into lines—
that is all.

Multiple ways of utilizing poetry for healing, growth and transformation will be presented including the Poetry and Brain Cancer project at UCLA. Particular attention will be given to issues of Palliative care. The reader will be directed to the scientific evidence of the efficacy of utilizing expressive writing. The developing professional field of Poetry Therapy and The National Association for Poetry Therapy will be discussed."

"Finding the Words to Say It: The Healing Power of Poetry" by Robert Carroll

The National Association of Poetry Therapy

~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: Thank you to Mimi Olsson for sending me this information! 

Saying Good-Bye

I've noticed that even with those who have round the clock family members to sit with the dying, it occasionally occurs that the person dies when someone has momentarily stepped out of the room. I think the patient knows when it is time to go. Some psychologists say there are those who seem to hang on until no one is around as if they want to leave freely, without famly clinging to them, perhaps holding them back. They also say that a person will hang on for much longer than expected as though they have one last thing to do, one last person to kiss goodbye.


This is how it was with my father. All the family came in to see him. Dad's sons and daughters, the adult grandchildren, the great grandchildren, even the great great grandchildren. Dear friends came and some called.

My brothers and sister, my daughter and I had all taken turns being with him. That last night we all had said good night at different times. I was the last to leave. Except my sister, who stayed in the room in case Dad needed anything. She sat in the lazy boy chair right next to his bed with her feet up. Among all the family members, my sister was the one who had spent the most time tirelessly attending to Dad's needs. She was the most likely one to spend her nights there beside him. All he had to do was whisper and she was asking what he might want, even if she was in deep sleep she would hear him. Truly, a devoted daughter.

They say just before someone dies, their breathing changes and some unusual noises are produced, perhaps a snore or two. But, somehow, with my sister right there beside him,  Daddy quietly slipped away. To this day she wonders why she didn't hear him have those breath sounds. Maybe he just didn't want to disturb her and let her rest.

Terminal Healing

When we come into this world we act out as freely as we want to. As time goes by, we get messages from others that to freely express ourselves is not okay.

Whoever said one must be a "good" (insert name of disease here) patient? What the hell is that anyways? If we be "good" does that mean we get to stay on this planet longer?

I know that there is a LOT of rhetoric about not "being negative" and  "keeping a positive attitude" will help one to have good health and survival. Oh and don't forget organic vegan lifestyle. If you didn't eat it before how is it going to take over and heal you? If you ate it before then why did you get sick? Maybe you like that style of food. But, wouldn't a hot fudge sundae be nice?

If is true that not thinking positive, having a negative attitude, not eating certain food, then I would have been gone a long time ago, because I was a very "bad" cancer patient. My inner child was pissed off. I went against the rules every chance I got, kicking and screaming and swearing at nurses (well, some of them deserved it) and telling people out loud that I had the forbidden "C" word and I was going to die.

Whoa! But those doctors were wrong. Maybe I was close to dying (had two Near Death Experiences), but no one can predict your future, really. Not even a doctor.

I was obsessed and talked about the "D" word to whoever I could get to listen. Most would get out of it, but some were cornered and I probably scared them to death. Those were times when the C word or D word were not discussed. 

I wrote out my will, I don't know how many times. Well, that is, every time I had a recurrence. I really didn't have much to leave, some books, some artwork, some poems, some favorite things. I wrote it out with pencil and paper from a 3 ring notebook; one time leaving my art to my sis, next time to my brother. There was something cathartic in it for me.

Realizing I didn't want a "funeral", just a "wake", a party maybe, where people would play all my favorite music, (wrote that in the will, too) and I went around making people feel uncomfortable when I told them, "Don't buy flowers for me after I am dead, Give them to me now, so I can appreciate them." What a bad girl I was. I can laugh at it now, but I was pretty indignant back then. Why put hundreds, maybe thousands of flowers on a casket that is put into the ground the day they are arranged? It seemed so selfish to me. Love me now, not when I'm dead!

So, when we come into this world and we are cute little babies, we can get pissed off and scream our heads off and let everybody know just how unhappy we are. And we get away with it. We know what we want and when we want it, like, I want that milk, NOW! and yummy that is real good!! and then we are happy for a while, and  then later we are miserable again, or sleepy, or giggly, or sad.... yet free to express whatever we feel. And people love you and care for you and for your feelings.

All I am saying is, I hope you will give yourself the right to feel however you want to feel and don't let anyone else pass judgement on you, and most of all, don't pass judgement on yourself for not being a "good" patient. Be whoever you are!

If it is true that your time on this planet is coming to a close, then why not do what you want? Well, maybe, not use that bludgeon you were thinking of. But, maybe take a stick and beat up the sofa. Listen to the music you want, eat popsicles and pizza or cereal for dinner and pudding for breakfast, wear all mis-matched clothes or draw tattoos on your arm or get out your old Barbies and dress Ken in Drag or your old legos and build castles. And, yes, protect yourself from those who are still stuck in their old ways, if you need to. You have no obligation to keep them in your life. It's your life after all, whatever is left of it, even if it goes long term. Clear out all the things that do not matter to you. It's very freeing to let go.

Take care of that little baby you once were who expressed yourself so freely. And in the meantime grab up all the love you can get for that which is inside you feeling empty, and let it fill your heart until it is overflowing. You will be very surprised as the overflow floods those around you, and whether or not you healed of the disease which might kill you, your heart will be healed with the fullness of love as it grows like a jungle garden. Your love and others intertwined in the leaves healing each other.