Thanks for sharing this with us. Though we have no real relationship, it feels close enough for loving you and deeply wanting you to know how much you are helping others. Sending love from New Orleans this morning.
Chris, no one could have said what we all feel for Suleika any better: “…loving you and deeply wanting you to know how much you are helping others.” I quote Dr. Rachel Noemi Remen: “What at first seemed a catastrophe, has become the foundation for living a good life … for healing the woundedness in others.”
I was so moved by your hospital bed studio visit that you found your way into a poem I wrote a few days ago about another great survivor, Frida Kahlo. I offer it to the community here:
FRIDA’S DANCE
The cup of my being broke open
two pelvic halves along my shattered spine
and from the ruins grew a vine
a seed cracks concrete if it must
It’s not about wellness
it’s all about pain
Art is the needle that enters the vein
From my bed I’ve travelled universes
If the corset forces you to sit unbending, deck your head
I didn’t realize how much I needed this today, until I read your post and the prompt and burst into tears. The words “adjust,” “adapt,” “rebuild” hit particularly close to home—my husband died in 2020 from colon cancer, my mom died suddenly this past January and now I am watching my elderly dog struggle with a disease. I have said on too many occasions the past couple of weeks, “If he goes, this could be my undoing.” Of course, I know I will keep going, but it feels infinitely harder with each loss of those closest to me. Nothing profound there, just fully felt like the first days of a breakup where that person’s absence still blocks out the sun,even when you know it’s still there keeping you alive. Love the idea of planting seeds and I think I have been doing so, even joining this group has been one. So true, as Rilke says, “no feeling is final.” The highs these last few years have felt higher, and the lows lower, just knowing re-emergence is possible is hope enough, Thank you for sharing such beautiful words.
I am so very sorry for your heartaches. We said goodbye to our long time retriever in March and it was brutal. I can't even imagine bearing that on top of family losses.
I lost my beloved dog in the fall of 2020 and it was the hardest pain I've ever gone through-- and I've gone through significant trauma. I think because he was the first being in my life that offered unconditional love, always. But because it was so awful I did allow myself to grieve it. Even with my depression I can't believe how far I've come 18 months later. I'm able to look at photos of him and smile and feel nothing but happy memories, not loss. Of course I miss him but I I am so happy I had him f or all the years I did.
You have already walked this horrible grieving path with your husband and your mom. So you know how to do it, which is why it's so scary to you right now and also why you will get through it. Just be kind to yourself. You have endured so much loss it's breathtaking.
Thank you for sharing with me, Molly. I'm sorry you lost your dog, it sucks (to put it mildly). Dogs are amazing and we are lucky to have them on this journey. So true about knowing how to walk this path, and knowing what it holds. A little comfort in knowing it, but much harder to accept it.
I hear you loud and clear. I lost my wife to cancer seven and a half years ago - a brilliant, compassionate nurse. We were married 34 years at the time. Six months later, I lost Louie, our Westie, to cancer. He and my wife were joined at the hip. I was already on shaky ground when Louie left, and I had lost all meaning in life. Something was telling me to keep going. I resisted. I wanted some reason why I should keep going. Today I can think of several reasons, and I am still breathing, but I have yet to rediscover meaning in life. I wish you peace.
Thank you, for sharing your story. I'm sorry to hear about your wife. Grief and loss are just an exhausting enterprise. I think finding any meaning is helpful, though I know it is a struggle at times. I'm glad you found reasons to keep going
Redemption songs, redemption songs, that Bob Marley lyric keeps running through my head as I try and respond to this prompt. Maybe my redemption has been through this move to Asheville, NC. It happened over 8 years ago but it has taken that long for me to see that though it may have shattered my marriage it may also have redeemed me as a writer, an artist and a good friend who has been embraced by a community of women I haven’t experienced since my 30’s and my tight knit group from the abortion clinic where we all worked at the time. By necessity and passion for our jobs we clung to each other both for safety and for moral propping up when those who opposed and threatened us brought their best game. Now here I am, about to turn 68, one week in to the post Roe world sitting in the ashes of its undoing. For a brief day or so I grieved for all that had been lost and felt that all I had worked for in my career in reproductive rights was gone. Then I slowly started to remember the women and girls that had passed through my care, the 12 year old pregnant by incest, the young mother already overwhelmed with four small children, the beaten down look of a woman who has suffered too many blows but in each case they were able to rise up, clear eyed and look in the mirror at their own decision that said no more. And I was there for a brief few hours as their advocate, I held their hand and proffered no judgement, I simply listened and at the end received small tokens of gratitude like a final glance over their shoulder that said thank you as they went out the door and back to the rest of their lives. I have found that same kind of camaraderie here through a book group I joined several years ago. Women all around the same age gathered last week, pre-planned before we knew and the day after the oppressive supreme court decision, we each were in mourning with stories to tell, some even with their own illegal abortion journeys circa 1970. We were stunned and sorrowful but also gathered strength from each other’s presence and though our child bearing years are in the past we each left that brief respite with a resolve to continue the fight for our daughters and granddaughters. So much lost but so much gained too. I thought I moved here with a husband to enjoy retirement; it turns out I moved here to meet these women and continue the work. “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds. How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?” Thanks Bob
Thank you, Marla, for sharing this and for your work. Suleika talks about planting seeds for future joy. Your story affirms for me that sometimes we don't even know we're doing the planting until something blooms. And then we trace the origins back, and see that, even periods that feel hopeless contain fertile ground.
Isn't "River" just the most perfect name for a pup that has flowed to you, to float you? Dogs are one of my greatest joy, may River be one of yours. ❤️
4 and a 1/2 years ago my 27 year old daughter died from anorexia. Over the past 9 months I have written a memoir, my story of loving and losing her. This writing has been redemptive for me.
When at the lowest moments of grief and despair the ladder that we climb up and out is usually made of a simple gesture. A last brushstroke to a painting satisfyingly makes a painting complete. The joy of completion and a movement upward and onward.
When my daughter died I felt the universe would now give my life an easy path. Nothing could hurt me as much as a loss of my child. This is true. But I have been hurt again. I have had loss again. My mother died. My father. When my father passed I lost my sister to selfishness and she took away my niece (same age as when my daughter died) so I never saw her grow up. I have lost friends. I have looked at my life with tear filled eyes, and then putting myself to sleep, I said I can’t do it anymore. And when I woke up I was still here. And in that darkest hour I realized the blessings are not big ones or ones that are always feel good. To me they were the moments of challenge that I was still here and I noticed. So i continued on with a little more light and honest heart. Upward and onward. A step on a ladder.
A dog named River. A friend. A stranger. Another sunrise to sunset. A savored moment.
“I’m learning that joy and sorrow can coexist. I’m beginning to understand that this is the space that I will spend most of my life.” These are the wisest words. I so appreciate hearing them this morning. So often we think of these as binaries. Redemption is everyday I wake up.
Cleveland School Englewood, NJ. My second grade teachers name was Mrs Johnson. She was a kindly person, slight in frame and big in heart. I took her literally when she told us to put a memory box next to our heart. Every night before going to bed place the precious memories in that place next to your heart. Whenever, you wanted to remember the memories would be right there for you to capture and hold. I took Mrs Johnson literally.
Then there was the school secretary who permitted my mother's sisters to meet my brother and I outside of the school because my father would not permit us to see them. And then my 3rd grade teacher Mrs Tate, who hit me over the head (it was permitted) and said everyone feels sorry for you-but I don't. (Thank you Mrs Johnson-redemption-next to my heart-sometimes buried deep-but there)
Suleika glad to see your getting the dog. I hope in this tough time for you it lifts you up. Everything I'm thinking of goes back to what my daughter has been going through medically. When everything was at lowest when there so much uncertainty with the pain she had, the non smiling because of it. As a parent I felt like there was a dark tunnel and couldn't find the light. The redemption in all that came when she was discharged and I could see that smile coming back. The day that happened I was so emotional because we went 4 almost 5 months without that. What else would like redeemed? My confidence that we can enjoy life again without these issues popping up again. I worry everyday when she wakes up that she'll complain of a pain that will be signal of that. What else is in their is me thinking confident of myself to do what I have to do to make things better for us. I don't remember too much other than hospital stuff of whats happened for the first part of this year. Part of me feels like I'm trying to catch up because it feels like something is missing.
Take care Suleika, hope things start to get better for you.
To those with sadness, badness wishing for no more madness - next time you feel behind or out of line search until you find all that is kind inside your mind - I've found mine --------- 4 years of living the responsible obligation of providing Papa Daycare Las Vegas has given me purpose and reason - these GrandGirls are 5 & 3 years old now - not sure I can ever tell 'em "goodbye" because I am a part of something REAL --- PapaRussL happy in his HEART
I loved Anna’s essay. I identified with so many parts of it, especially the Christian background (and being obsessed with the Bible, also being depressed and floundering as a young adult). God was my special interest, and I now know I am autistic which really helps me make better sense of my inner world. Just one shift, and I I can accept myself instead of looking to religion or others to tell me how to be a person.
On July 16 I will be attending a patient reunion for bone marrow transplant who have survived 5 years or more here in Seattle at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. I will see many former patients I treated through this process. It is an exciting time. Patients want to see their nurses! Joanne Rochester, RN
I hope (the) River carries you to new places of discovery on this journey. Thrilled that you and your beautiful new pup will get to share each other’s love.
Thanks for sharing this with us. Though we have no real relationship, it feels close enough for loving you and deeply wanting you to know how much you are helping others. Sending love from New Orleans this morning.
I’m so grateful for this community, for our call and response, for the deep and resonant reverberations ♥️
Chris, no one could have said what we all feel for Suleika any better: “…loving you and deeply wanting you to know how much you are helping others.” I quote Dr. Rachel Noemi Remen: “What at first seemed a catastrophe, has become the foundation for living a good life … for healing the woundedness in others.”
Thank you. It is hard to express the appreciation I feel.
Miranda- wow, all I can say is wow!
Truth
I was so moved by your hospital bed studio visit that you found your way into a poem I wrote a few days ago about another great survivor, Frida Kahlo. I offer it to the community here:
FRIDA’S DANCE
The cup of my being broke open
two pelvic halves along my shattered spine
and from the ruins grew a vine
a seed cracks concrete if it must
It’s not about wellness
it’s all about pain
Art is the needle that enters the vein
From my bed I’ve travelled universes
If the corset forces you to sit unbending, deck your head
make offerings to your ancestors
from your own dignity
You will make art in emergency
with all that is available,
it is the machine that keeps you alive
use your own body
do it now
do not wait to tidy the studio up
do not search for a meaning
a moment
a sign
You speak for women yet unborn
It is your body
It will dance
so you’d better get out of its way
“From my bed I’ve travelled universes” ♥️♥️♥️
Gorgeous ❤️
Love this
I didn’t realize how much I needed this today, until I read your post and the prompt and burst into tears. The words “adjust,” “adapt,” “rebuild” hit particularly close to home—my husband died in 2020 from colon cancer, my mom died suddenly this past January and now I am watching my elderly dog struggle with a disease. I have said on too many occasions the past couple of weeks, “If he goes, this could be my undoing.” Of course, I know I will keep going, but it feels infinitely harder with each loss of those closest to me. Nothing profound there, just fully felt like the first days of a breakup where that person’s absence still blocks out the sun,even when you know it’s still there keeping you alive. Love the idea of planting seeds and I think I have been doing so, even joining this group has been one. So true, as Rilke says, “no feeling is final.” The highs these last few years have felt higher, and the lows lower, just knowing re-emergence is possible is hope enough, Thank you for sharing such beautiful words.
I am so very sorry for your heartaches. We said goodbye to our long time retriever in March and it was brutal. I can't even imagine bearing that on top of family losses.
Thank you, pets are amazing. I'm sorry you had to go through it :(
I lost my beloved dog in the fall of 2020 and it was the hardest pain I've ever gone through-- and I've gone through significant trauma. I think because he was the first being in my life that offered unconditional love, always. But because it was so awful I did allow myself to grieve it. Even with my depression I can't believe how far I've come 18 months later. I'm able to look at photos of him and smile and feel nothing but happy memories, not loss. Of course I miss him but I I am so happy I had him f or all the years I did.
You have already walked this horrible grieving path with your husband and your mom. So you know how to do it, which is why it's so scary to you right now and also why you will get through it. Just be kind to yourself. You have endured so much loss it's breathtaking.
Thank you for sharing with me, Molly. I'm sorry you lost your dog, it sucks (to put it mildly). Dogs are amazing and we are lucky to have them on this journey. So true about knowing how to walk this path, and knowing what it holds. A little comfort in knowing it, but much harder to accept it.
Shannon, so sorry for your losses. Wishing you love and support on your path to re-emergence.
I hear you loud and clear. I lost my wife to cancer seven and a half years ago - a brilliant, compassionate nurse. We were married 34 years at the time. Six months later, I lost Louie, our Westie, to cancer. He and my wife were joined at the hip. I was already on shaky ground when Louie left, and I had lost all meaning in life. Something was telling me to keep going. I resisted. I wanted some reason why I should keep going. Today I can think of several reasons, and I am still breathing, but I have yet to rediscover meaning in life. I wish you peace.
Thank you, for sharing your story. I'm sorry to hear about your wife. Grief and loss are just an exhausting enterprise. I think finding any meaning is helpful, though I know it is a struggle at times. I'm glad you found reasons to keep going
"grief and loss are just an exhausting enterprise". Wow, that sums it up concisely!
Redemption songs, redemption songs, that Bob Marley lyric keeps running through my head as I try and respond to this prompt. Maybe my redemption has been through this move to Asheville, NC. It happened over 8 years ago but it has taken that long for me to see that though it may have shattered my marriage it may also have redeemed me as a writer, an artist and a good friend who has been embraced by a community of women I haven’t experienced since my 30’s and my tight knit group from the abortion clinic where we all worked at the time. By necessity and passion for our jobs we clung to each other both for safety and for moral propping up when those who opposed and threatened us brought their best game. Now here I am, about to turn 68, one week in to the post Roe world sitting in the ashes of its undoing. For a brief day or so I grieved for all that had been lost and felt that all I had worked for in my career in reproductive rights was gone. Then I slowly started to remember the women and girls that had passed through my care, the 12 year old pregnant by incest, the young mother already overwhelmed with four small children, the beaten down look of a woman who has suffered too many blows but in each case they were able to rise up, clear eyed and look in the mirror at their own decision that said no more. And I was there for a brief few hours as their advocate, I held their hand and proffered no judgement, I simply listened and at the end received small tokens of gratitude like a final glance over their shoulder that said thank you as they went out the door and back to the rest of their lives. I have found that same kind of camaraderie here through a book group I joined several years ago. Women all around the same age gathered last week, pre-planned before we knew and the day after the oppressive supreme court decision, we each were in mourning with stories to tell, some even with their own illegal abortion journeys circa 1970. We were stunned and sorrowful but also gathered strength from each other’s presence and though our child bearing years are in the past we each left that brief respite with a resolve to continue the fight for our daughters and granddaughters. So much lost but so much gained too. I thought I moved here with a husband to enjoy retirement; it turns out I moved here to meet these women and continue the work. “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds. How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?” Thanks Bob
Thank you, Marla, for sharing this and for your work. Suleika talks about planting seeds for future joy. Your story affirms for me that sometimes we don't even know we're doing the planting until something blooms. And then we trace the origins back, and see that, even periods that feel hopeless contain fertile ground.
“…sometimes we have to plant seeds for future Joy.” I’m so happy to hear River is on his way to you, Suleika. ❤️
It’s the best news! ♥️♥️
Yes! 😃
Isn't "River" just the most perfect name for a pup that has flowed to you, to float you? Dogs are one of my greatest joy, may River be one of yours. ❤️
4 and a 1/2 years ago my 27 year old daughter died from anorexia. Over the past 9 months I have written a memoir, my story of loving and losing her. This writing has been redemptive for me.
When at the lowest moments of grief and despair the ladder that we climb up and out is usually made of a simple gesture. A last brushstroke to a painting satisfyingly makes a painting complete. The joy of completion and a movement upward and onward.
When my daughter died I felt the universe would now give my life an easy path. Nothing could hurt me as much as a loss of my child. This is true. But I have been hurt again. I have had loss again. My mother died. My father. When my father passed I lost my sister to selfishness and she took away my niece (same age as when my daughter died) so I never saw her grow up. I have lost friends. I have looked at my life with tear filled eyes, and then putting myself to sleep, I said I can’t do it anymore. And when I woke up I was still here. And in that darkest hour I realized the blessings are not big ones or ones that are always feel good. To me they were the moments of challenge that I was still here and I noticed. So i continued on with a little more light and honest heart. Upward and onward. A step on a ladder.
A dog named River. A friend. A stranger. Another sunrise to sunset. A savored moment.
“I’m learning that joy and sorrow can coexist. I’m beginning to understand that this is the space that I will spend most of my life.” These are the wisest words. I so appreciate hearing them this morning. So often we think of these as binaries. Redemption is everyday I wake up.
100 day Project- Day 93
Cleveland School Englewood, NJ. My second grade teachers name was Mrs Johnson. She was a kindly person, slight in frame and big in heart. I took her literally when she told us to put a memory box next to our heart. Every night before going to bed place the precious memories in that place next to your heart. Whenever, you wanted to remember the memories would be right there for you to capture and hold. I took Mrs Johnson literally.
Then there was the school secretary who permitted my mother's sisters to meet my brother and I outside of the school because my father would not permit us to see them. And then my 3rd grade teacher Mrs Tate, who hit me over the head (it was permitted) and said everyone feels sorry for you-but I don't. (Thank you Mrs Johnson-redemption-next to my heart-sometimes buried deep-but there)
Suleika glad to see your getting the dog. I hope in this tough time for you it lifts you up. Everything I'm thinking of goes back to what my daughter has been going through medically. When everything was at lowest when there so much uncertainty with the pain she had, the non smiling because of it. As a parent I felt like there was a dark tunnel and couldn't find the light. The redemption in all that came when she was discharged and I could see that smile coming back. The day that happened I was so emotional because we went 4 almost 5 months without that. What else would like redeemed? My confidence that we can enjoy life again without these issues popping up again. I worry everyday when she wakes up that she'll complain of a pain that will be signal of that. What else is in their is me thinking confident of myself to do what I have to do to make things better for us. I don't remember too much other than hospital stuff of whats happened for the first part of this year. Part of me feels like I'm trying to catch up because it feels like something is missing.
Take care Suleika, hope things start to get better for you.
I’m reminded of Invisible Mending, an epic poem by C.K. Williams that reads in small part:
Three women old as angels,
bent as ancient apple trees,
who, in a storefront window,
with magnifying glasses,
needles fine as hair, and shining
scissors, parted woof from warp
and pruned what would in
human tissue have been sick.
….
And in your loneliness you’d notice
how really very gently they’d take
the fabric to last, with what
solicitude gather up worn edges
to be bound, with what severe
but kind detachment wield
their amputating shears:
forgiveness, and repair.
To those with sadness, badness wishing for no more madness - next time you feel behind or out of line search until you find all that is kind inside your mind - I've found mine --------- 4 years of living the responsible obligation of providing Papa Daycare Las Vegas has given me purpose and reason - these GrandGirls are 5 & 3 years old now - not sure I can ever tell 'em "goodbye" because I am a part of something REAL --- PapaRussL happy in his HEART
I loved Anna’s essay. I identified with so many parts of it, especially the Christian background (and being obsessed with the Bible, also being depressed and floundering as a young adult). God was my special interest, and I now know I am autistic which really helps me make better sense of my inner world. Just one shift, and I I can accept myself instead of looking to religion or others to tell me how to be a person.
On July 16 I will be attending a patient reunion for bone marrow transplant who have survived 5 years or more here in Seattle at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. I will see many former patients I treated through this process. It is an exciting time. Patients want to see their nurses! Joanne Rochester, RN
I hope (the) River carries you to new places of discovery on this journey. Thrilled that you and your beautiful new pup will get to share each other’s love.