I just discovered these poems below in Lynn's computer. She wrote them 2/4/06, several months before passing. I'm at our home in NC again for Christmas vacation & my mother just reminded me that we aren't supposed to view the personal contents of anyone's computer--after reading the poems with me. Though she is right, I cannot help but view whatever I can in Lynn's computers. It makes me feel closer to her and I pray that she'll forgive any offense, be grateful that I am allowing her to live on through any part of her legacy I can dig up, and understand that my expressions of love for her through this blog are helping me & hopefully one day others to heal through ways unexplainable even to myself.
The 1st poem reminds me of how much the cancer altered her looks. First, the massive weight loss was a welcoming view for she & I and we spoke of it in the positive light of the cancer taking off the weight that we'd longed to say goodbye to anyway. She had been increasingly overweight for years. Although we'd attributed the much celebrated 40 or so lb. loss from fall 04' to spring 05' to the Adkins diet & a gym membership, it was great to see her so happy to finally fit into whatever she wanted within two months of her 1st chemo treatment. My mother who has also struggled with weight, steadily lost her own weight from being sick with worry the whole time my sister was ill. One fond memory & silver lining from this was when we went shopping one day that July & were all able to fit the same pair of pants for the first and only time. The 3 times I saw Lynn again before then & one yr. later, though the cancer kept doing it's dirty work with dramatic speed on her looks, she was often dressed to kill--and loving every moment of finally being able to look and dress sensually and otherwise however she wanted to again.
But all that materialism & skin-deep appreciation for that ever-changing new suit-for-her-spirit had stopped by the time she was bedridden that next July of 06'. She was such skin and bones by then that she would no longer get on a scale. And though I still deeply tried to believe she would not get worse, flashes of our sister Janet's last months just a decade before, kept coming to mind. Lynn lived in Atlanta then and she had told Janet early on she'd be up here the moment she needed her. So she moved up here and took care of Janet her last couple of months after a days notice at her career as "store manager and event planner" in a major supermarket (Kroger-Savon) the moment Janet let her know she could no longer take care of herself or Amina who was then eight. I was always knee deep in schoolwork even then (though it was nothing compared to now) and I've never gotten over that guilt. Janet's condition at this point still haunted my memory as I looked at Lynn that July of 06' but she still had her upbeat attitude and spirit all the time (even having a party from hospice and seeming so well there that August that they sent her home because she wasn't dying fast enough and they needed her bed for those who were).
But the destruction of Lynn's looks when I got back there shortly after Labor Day were so heartwrenching, that I cannot write of such pain other than to say that I put a pillow in front of her mirror after helping her back to bed following another challenging trip to the bathroom (because she proudly refused to use the wheelchair that hospice had sent her). I did this still hoping to give her hope after helplessly watching her look at the stranger in the mirror in a rare instance of sitting up in that hospital bed sent home to her bedroom--which she hated being relegated to.
Lynn's 2nd poem makes me think of how we often talked of our mutual longing to have children--and her countless attempts to get pregnant--including one hilarious account of dropping Viagra into the drink of her 2nd husband (who she was engaged to before her 1st husband)! It also reminds me that even though her seemingly undying spirit seemed almost gone from early that Sept. until the end (a month and a half later), there were a few moments and days even then when it would come shining through again. And she always made me feel it was because I was there by her side, still fighting for her to stay herself and stay here.
Who’s in the Mirror Today?
Who’s in the mirror today
Is it you so full of life and energy
Or is she back…that stranger, that creature, that other which has your eyes in her head and your secrets in her heart
Stolen Seasons
Babies that are never born
Children die well before dawn
Where is the teenager who loved so much
Where is the young woman with the grace filled touch
Seasons of love
Seasons of happiness
Seasons of ecstasy
I have been loved hard
I have loved hard
My life has been full, every season has been stolen
Every season has been a gift
I don't know why but I now feel a need to do add this, months later:
I went back to work a couple of months following the 3 funerals one week after the other of my sister, father, and father's first cousin Margie who was more like his sister. The two of them had lived part of their lives together as children plus she and her kids came to live with us for a while when I was a baby. Margie had just called me the day after my father died to come get a couple of hundred dollars to help with his funeral. When I called her to announce I'd be stopping by to get it two days later, I found out she'd been rushed to the hospital herself. Before I knew it, as soon as Daddy was laid to rest next to his mother in our family church's graveyard, most relatives rushed from his repasse to the hospital because we'd just gotten a call that Margie had just passed herself. She was buried on the other side of my father. It was already into Nov. by then and I couldn't go right back to work, especially with the holidays right around the corner.
After having had my family medical leave extended (which had begun in the beginning of the school year), I finally went back to work right after the New Year. On Lynn's first birthday after she died (Feb. 13th), I sent my mother, our cousin Gia, and Lynn's best friend Suky flowers before I went to work. At work that day, I wound up in an unpleasant conference over one of my kids who was partially taking out his failing grades on me. He'd always been very warm towards me before this and I found out later that this freshman had been taking care of his dying grandmother for years and was simply at wits end. Because I'd become so paranoid that my mother might lose her last daughter (me), after his threats, I had him removed from my class though I requested both consequences and help for him. We made amends a couple of weeks later and he sincerely apologized but he was still transferred from our school for failing most or all classes for the year although he'd lost his grandmother before the school year was over.
This was just one of many instances where I've never understood how some can treat people who are mourning. Though some support was given in both instances, we were both expected to carry on like our personal lives were just fine before and after these family deaths. I've added this in just to say, please take time to be more caring towards people going through something like this; you never know if it will be you, your loved one, or how you'll react. It's easy to judge when you haven't walked in someone else's shoes. I found out through a friend of his at my school that he seems to be doing alright at his second high school.
Though I've always longed for, yet never had biological children, I've always said I have a lot of children because all children are the sociological children of all adults --since we all influence them and thus help make them who they come to be--the job of parents.
Lynn always loved children and had a flock of sociological kids of her own who were crazy about her as well. Like I did at one point whenever I heard a former neighbor's baby crying, Lynn even spent more time with one of her friend's babys than the mother herself did. Another of her older close friends, Veronica even named her baby after Lynn and so did one of our cousins, Kim. I have two sets of godchildren myself and Lynn had her own godson through her other best friend Deborah. Well, you may think we're crazy but believe it or not, my mother and I now have peace of mind knowing that Lynn finally has a child of her very own. Unknown to most, my mother has always had "deja vu" experiences that were previously in her dreams. On the one year anniversary of Lynn's passing, she had a new experience that she convinced me was real:
Our cousin Judy had taken her to Charleston South Carolina for the weekend and as they left, Judy stated that they were "taking Lynn with them." They saw butterflies all along the hours drive and my mom said they could literally "feel" Lynn's presence. Then, in the midst of that night, when she got up to use the restroom, who do you think appeared in the doorway, grinning at her, before saying "Mommy; I brought someone to meet you" as she pulled a little girl who appeared to be five-- with my eyes and Lynn's bright, bubbly smile-- from behind her. She then asked, "Ariel, do you know who this is?" The girl replied with glee "Grandma!"
And then they were gone. Ariel is the name Lynn had always told my mother she would name her daughter.
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