At this time of year, I remember my little sister because her birthday was at the end of March. She was born with a benign brain tumour, which was removed along with her pituitary gland when she was five years old, leaving her with many illnesses and challenges. And then, when she was only 42, she was diagnosed with abdominal cancer and passed away all within eight days over Christmas.
Ode to Heather Joy
So little joy in your life,
even when young and new.
Life is unfair, you said,
it’s all a joke.
And you were right.
Even after you faced
the challenges of medical torture
and gave your body to new
and dangerous chemicals,
which coursed through your blood
and poisoned your mortal flesh
a cell at a time.
Sick and tired of life, you swore at God
and threatened to go home early.
You might have tumbled down the stairs
or sped your car into some concrete block
to say goodbye unceremoniously
to a life that was cruel and joyless
from the moment of your innocent wonder
and through three and a half more decades,
unrelenting, determined to try you
until you were left with no choice.
But still you held on with some hope,
much giving and sharing with those
who lived pain like you.
Until, one day when you weren’t looking,
those antisocial cells took hold,
with little warning.
A sudden stabbing pain
that would not go away
threw you off your feet,
took your breath away.
You weren’t ready then to go home,
but no one asked.
The tumours stuck and
mushroomed through your midsection
like messengers of death.
And you were gone,
Without saying goodbye.
This poem is in my yet-to-be-published book, Gathering Lilacs, free to all founding members.
I deeply feel the pain of this experience you have lived Susan. Sending you love.
Thank you for using your pain to help heal and educate others. THAT is a beautiful tribute you give to your sister's memory.