New Vistas I Wish I Could Have Shared With Patty

Tonight I met an extraordinary young woman of remarkable talent and drive. Her name is Lisa and she is the creator and owner of a website called "BellaOnline." It is easily one of the most remarkable sites I have ever seen and reaches so many people - primarily women - in such a positive way I could not help mentioning it here. Lisa is shy, very bright, and very determined to make an impact - or I should say, "even more of an impact." I visited her site this evening and found two truly wonderful recipes using pumpkin, found many links to many different types of sites offering everything from free advice or help to free craft patterns and instruction. There are links to sites on topics as diverse as sewing, religion, current events, and many others. The network for this site is huge! Lisa has four hundred other women and men editing the many and varied choices and there are areas for posting requests or offering help finding recipes, patterns, instructions (cars to crocheting), as well as links to other sites Lisa owns and manages. There is also a minimum of advertising and a commitment to assisting women in areas of the world who would normally be unable to access the information and instructions offered by the site. Having any access to the site at all has already enabled women in third world areas to augment their families lives and incomes. This is one of the most positive sites I have ever encountered in so many truly constructive and wonderful ways. Lisa is enthusiastic and very modest. I am not sure she even fully realizes how truly remarkable she and her efforts have proven to be in the positive and encouraging manner of presentation and her whole-hearted commitment to keep her site free from the interference and direction of more commercially minded interests. Yay, Lisa!

Life and Current Events

Life is finally starting to intrude upon the grief of having lost my sister, Patty. Although it is still difficult seeing things that remind me so strongly of her or of the random memories that pop into my mind, my grief is gentler now; less potent and less painful, although eternally present. The healing is well under way and, although the loss will be with me for the rest of my life, I know we will get through the upcoming holidays and still be together as a family - diminished in size and essence, but not in love.

One of the news stories that has caught my attention lately has been the sad and pathetic reports of the woman at Oprah Winfrey's school who has humiliated and abused several of the girls there. How sad that such a beautiful vision has been seemingly marred by the vicious weakness and vile frailties of such an individual, however I do not believe that the evil present has reduced the beauty or the strength of the original vision. Oprah's dream is merely not fully realized as yet, but it will be soon. In the coming weeks, months and years, as this woman's poisonous actions are slowly cleansed from the school and the hearts and minds of the young girls who suffered her abuses and perversions, as well as those who only witnessed them, Oprah's dream will reaquire all of its original beauty and strength. Oprah is strong enough to make this happen. The strength within the hearts of the girls victimized will overcome this atrocity; they will flourish, heal, and bring that healing to others.

On another current events front is the ever present and pathetic Ms. Britney Spears, who's self-indulgence and pathetic weakness of character is becoming more and more obvious with each passing, desperate for attention, news story about her and her exploits. Still, I feel sorry for her. She has lost all perspective on how to grow up and become the woman her two sons so desperately need their mother to be. This young woman needs to get off of her self-indulgent course of self-destruction and learn to mature and care about her sons more than she cares about herself or her failing, flailing career. No amount of collagen, botox, implants, or plastic surgery will ever recoup her teenaged pop queen body or image. She is sinking and it is difficult not to watch the process, growing ever more horrified as her face appears and reappears over and over again, of the desperate bids for attention all of her actions and appearances seem to have become. Thank goodness her two little boys have the strength and protections of more practical and concerned minds than that of their mother - at least they will survive her determined self-destructive tendancies. I wish Britney could suddenly become fully aware of the harm she has been and is inflicting upon her two beautiful children. Perhaps the realization might slow down her pursuit of fame somewhat, and give her at least one strange, rare moment of mature contemplation in which to ponder her actions and likely fate in all of this.

That's it for now. A bit disjointed and rambling, but at least back online.

May all of your family and pursuits be more fruitful and precious with each passing day.

Love, Izzlebug

The Eternity Following

It has been less than a month (less than three weeks, actually) since Patty passed away. It still feels unreal, yet I know in my heart it is not; she really is gone. Her son is doing OK, although he has had a rough time. Her ten-year old daughter has not seemed to yet feel the full weight of her mom's death, so we all wait and watch, fearful of the moment when it arrives and desperately concerned for her in the mean time.

Patty's memorial service and funeral were just "right" (if that word can really be applied in such a situation). There were pictures and memories shared, and just the right amount of irreverence, much like Patty herself. We will always miss her and wish she could have gotten over the leukemia and stayed with us. It is an ache that will dull in time but never fully heal, never completely dissipate; this is as it should be. My sister was such a vibrant and special part of our lives we will always feel diminished by not having her with us; we will always love and miss her.

I had a dream the other night. Patty was there - well at last, and happy - busy doing something for somebody, somehow. I felt this sweet, sweet pain in my heart as I went to her and hugged her, twice. The "hug" seemed so real to me I could still feel the pressure of it, and the love, upon waking from my dream although Patty was gone before I woke up. I miss her so much. I could have gone an entire lifetime worrying and trying to help out rather than having to lose her; the choice would have been so easy, but we were not given such an option.

During those last all too precious days and hours I asked one of the ICU nurses if finding comfort in singing to my sister was odd and she assured me it was not. Apparently there are a lot of people out there even more eccentric than I can be - I am not sure if that is comforting news or alarming news, but it was news to me, as well as a relief. So I sang to Patty; songs from our childhood, songs from favorite musicals - The Sound of Music, in particular - certain favorite hymns, and so on. Even my niece wanted to sing to her Mom and she chose "Cruella Deville" and "The Circle Game." We tried singing "Puff the Magic Dragon," together but we ended up messing each other up, so I tried to let my niece sing by herself knowing her Mom would want to hear her voice over mine any day of the week. We all cried and talked to Patty and hoped she could hear us and understand the love we had never conciously withheld that was spilling out of our hearts as she lay there, too ill to recover, too weakened to fight any longer, too beautiful for this world. We were all in her room the moment of her death, holding her and one another, and I was able to sing one of the songs from her wedding; I think it helped all of us to cry and let her go, finally, despite the desperate yearnings to beg her to stay with us longer. Her children were safe, she was there for her son's eighteenth birthday both in body and in spirit, and she had her family surrounding her and loving her as she died.

I never thought I would be the one saying "good bye" to either of my younger sisters. "She who declines to be named" has been ordered to stay healthy until at least her 93rd birthday. As much as love hurts during these times, it also strengthens and comforts, carrying us through the rest of life despite such crushing blows. I would not trade it for anything.

May all of you be having happier times and may all of you also be at peace with one another and the world at large.

Love, Izzlebug

To My Beautiful Sister

Patty's struggles to fight this horrible disease are done, yet she fights on in allowing medical science to learn from her life and death.

My beautiful sister is gone from this world but remains forever in our hearts. Words cannot touch either our grief, right now, or Patty's serene and peaceful beauty.

Words sometimes come too fast and furiously to get them all down but, as they are thoughts of Patty, they are uniquely wonderful as well as painful; erudite while fraught with emotion and pain, but too many to make it intact to this blog right now.

Patty's children struggle with the death of their mother and Patty's sisters and family, drunkenly stumbling through all of this in their collective grief, try to keep it together for her bereft son and daughter, incredible images in so many ways of their Mom yet still unique and wonderful individuals in their own right. I love them so much; they are more precious than they will ever fully realize.

To those who have prayed for us, or even just sent a brief, kind thought in our direction, thank you.

To those going through this same type of struggle themselves, please know our hearts are fighting beside you though our minds must, necessarily, be elsewhere.

Our world feels smaller, more empty than before, yet incredibly full of the burgeoning life and heartbeat of this planet. I think this is as Patty would have had it.

Our greatest treasures are this life and those we have to love and who love us. All other attainments or possessions are, and should always remain, secondary to that.

Through our tears and heartache, we reach out to all others in our common humanity. Be at peace.

Izzlebug


Yet once again,
I am poured out.
An empty vessel
Cast aside upon
An endless beach of
Grief and pain.
Sand and ashes
Ebb; flowing with every tide
Until, in Time,
I stand,
Able to be filled again.

Patty, I Love You

I saw you,
Eyes full of every sorrow
And all love,
Looking 'round the room.
That day you bravely faced a future
Rife with menace
And potential doom.

Marching into frigid and frightening night,
Your shoulders straight and sure,
Giving all for the hope of life
And though spent,
Your love was pure.

Your two children now have beds
In a world bereft of your loving arms.
Your guidance and your faith
Gone; strange silence in their stead.

The strength and hope of your heart
The sure love shining from your face
Will beacon all of us to Heaven
When we each have run our race.

My sweet and gentle sister,
Though gone before yet never truly dead,
Find me when it is my time,
When I must face such fears,
Must yield such hopes,
Must rest another sad and weary head
Upon the bosom of this earth,
Cradle of both fear and birth.


Patty is still with us, but not likely for very long - tomorrow being a day of decision, one we have longed to never have to face. She is beautiful, serene, and remote. Far from us yet a permanent part of our forever. My sweet sister; light of a compassion and forgiveness I feel I only meagerly understand. She rests and cannot speak but may still be able to hear us as we try to express our love, the very genuine joy and humor she brought us, and the grief we cannot reign in at the thought of losing her love and her presence in the inexorably increasing penury of our lives.

A Kerouac Moment

I Wonder

I wonder if he would have liked me?
Probably not,because I never dared
to live, I never dared
to bare my soul
(or myself, for that matter)
to anyone before I was thirty-five.
It was only then I became fully alive
and aware.
I was always a late bloomer,
but Jack
made daring to be bare fun.
Perhaps, somewhere in his poetry,
he would understand
that I grew old first,
before my time.
Maybe he would forgive me then
and like me a little,
although being born
when you're thirty-five
is an awful waste of time.
Jack did not waste time
but now
he has no more time.
I am still alive.

Channeling Kerouac
(*note - within this poem the asterisk (*)
is meant to indicate a finger snap :-)! Also,
this poem is loosely based upon Kerouac's
work "On the Road.")

Ja-, *, Ja-, Jack
Kerouac*, -ac, -ac.
Tormented, wander-lusting soul
Hiking trails into
Inebriate burgundy depths
Of dark thoughts and days.

Father of a million Bastard children
Playing
Beat, beat, beat
With critical syntaxioms of
Unframed, wanton words
To a writing-souled
Literary Evolution Revolution.

Hot, brooding genius
And drug-tethered brains
Jailed in addictions
But salient with
Life-pulsing
Relentless pursuits of
Swing, hip, jazz.
Beatific angel flights
Through new-sky time.

Morning Has Broken

lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon

Morning has broken, like the first morning;
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the word.

Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from Heaven;
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning,
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise every morning,
God’s recreation of the new day.

additional lyrics by Izzlebug:

Life in its sweetness draws us toward Heaven
As we are granted every new day.
Praise for renewed life in the fresh garden
Chastens our fears and shows us our way.

Peace beyond presence, peace beyond mourning
Is our true comfort from God above.
Praise for His mercy - hope beyond Heaven
For this sweet earth and all those we love.

Patty continues to struggle with the leukemia and is enduring another several days of chemo in hopes of reducing the leukemia enough to get her through to the transplant; the donor will be available at the beginning of October. Her children continue to try to deal with their Mom's illness and the rest of us try to keep watch over the three of them and each other as we try to find our way through each day. I live my life knowing that miracles do happen but realize such hope is a tightrope between elation and despair with balance difficult to maintain when Patty is often in too much pain or too nauseous from the chemo to even speak on the phone. Yet, hope stubbornly remains and I cling to it, wanting my sister well again.

Please continue in your kind thoughts and prayers for my sister and our family. Such thoughts and prayers mean more than any one of us may ever fully realize.

Izzlebug

The Dream

It is so dark, but not cold.
An alive darkness
With form and weight;
The backdrop of all dreams.
I hear my niece screaming, screaming
For her mother.
I go to her, find her,
See her huddled in the blackness,
Crying for her Mom.
Touching her,
Rubbing her back,
Soothing her,
I say,"Let's see if we can find your Mom."
I look up and over there,
In the darkness, too weak from her illness to come to her child,
Is my sister. We go to her.
My niece climbs into her mother's lap
And the humming,
Seemingly tuneless, begins.
Arms around her child,
Bald head bowed protectingly
Over her young daughter,
They cuddle together in the darkness;
A bright beacon of light to me.
I fall back to sleep
Watching my sister and my niece,
Cradled together as one,
Glowing with warmth
Against the pitch blackness,
Comforting one another with love
In the darkness,
Memories of another
Mother and child
Lulling me to sleep.

What Do I Promise God?

So many times in the past I have read tales of people who have, after having promised God to devote their lives to Him or His works or to accomplish something they have put off for far too long or to do something sufficiently philanthropic as to gain His approval, experienced the answer to their prayers be it some special request granted or some miracle performed either through human agency or in a mysteriously "godly" fashion.

I would really like to believe that some prayer or promise of mine might also garner such a response, especially where it pertains to those I hold very dear. The trouble is not that I do not know what to ask for - right now I want my sister well again and able to go about her life with her children - but what I might possibly be able to guarantee or offer God that might be sufficiently pleasing to the Omnipotence before me to warrant His being willing to grant such a boon. I have been thinking about this a lot and generally consider God's willingness to give me such attentions, as well as the attentions I want for my loved ones, on a par with my chances of winning the state lottery and taking home millions of almost unimaginable dollars.

For me prayer is like a roll of the dice or a spin of the roulette wheel, not always positive and stacked against the pray-er. The pray-ee (God) is the one that holds all the cards and controls the chances, so He is akin to a casino boss in this little fantasy of mine. I do not consider my musings particularly sacrilegious since the apostles played a game of chance when trying to select a replacement for Judas Iscariot after Christ's death and considered it would be the hand of God guiding the end result; nor do I feel any guilt in the purchase of an occasional lottery ticket - I usually buy "quick-pick" tickets in the spirit of "letting God decide," and try to let Him know I have my ticket if He should choose to bless us in such a fashion at the time. I'm not blonde*, after all, and it's good to be prepared ahead of time, if possible.

(* This is a very facetious reference to a very bad "blonde" joke I once heard - and have repeated - but consider it only in fun. Patty, my younger sister, is a blonde and there are very few who can equal her in intelligence, strength and creativity. - I.)

Unfortunately, not everything is as simplistic or innocent as a dollar spent on a lottery ticket, and when you get into trying to express your hopes for those you care deeply for to a seemingly silent entity drifting in the cosmos somewhere you are presently not, it takes on a more threatening feeling, like being caught telling fibs or something equally as embarrassing or humiliating. It seems as if I should be bargaining with God right now for my sister's life but, again, I do not know what to offer in exchange for the miracle of life I long to see my sister receive.

I suppose all a person can do in these circumstances is to let God know they will keep trying - trying to become better people, trying to grow in wisdom and maturity, trying to grow and learn in compassion, kindness, forgiveness, trying to remember the lessons learned from the loved one being prayed for, and so on. I only hope that is enough because that may be all I truly can offer God.

I will keep trying.

Parents and Children

The other day we were all gathered at Dana Farber to be there for Patty and Dad as the doctor let us know what, if anything, further can be done to help Patty beat the leukemia. As we waited, along with all of the other families of patients with double-booked appointments, the one thing that I consistently saw throughout the day were all of the parents there with their children. It did not matter whether the "children" were full grown adults, young, old, infants, toddlers, teenagers, or had children of their own; the looks upon the faces of the parents was universally the same - they were all watching as their children fight deadly diseases and some, as their children succumb to those diseases.

Part of their creation, our parents anticipated the births of each of us. Sometimes the father was witness to their child's birth as their mother went through the labor of giving life to each one. Such a moment is the only time in our lives that "normal" is actually seen as being perfect - ten little toes, ten fingers, tiny fingernails, beautiful ears, eyes, and limbs, soft skin with the glow of being just born. That first tiny yawn as the little fist comes up under a tiny chin for the first time in full view of their mom and dad. Parents have loved and cared for each of us, although some have had to make their ways in this world without that love to help them. Our parents have held us, cared for us, taught us and delighted in our being able to learn new things at each step. They hold our hands as long as they possibly can, with only death finally preventing them from being there, forever, for each of us so loved.

From the first moment they knew us, our hands were in theirs. Our tiny fingers grasped their much larger fingers before we even knew we were beings unique and wonderful, at least in the eyes of our parents.

We return to the hospital tomorrow to see the doctor Patty could not see because of all the chaos on Monday. All of us will be there, with those too far away to attend with us present in heart and mind if not in body, and we will be ready to hear what the doctor has to say, maybe. To be there is the only gift we can give at times like this and to stand by the only right thing to do. If any knees buckle with bad news, others of us will be there to catch the sufferer on the way to the floor. Our tears may mingle or we may be given some fresh hope that this disease may not yet have won its deadly battle with my sister's body. Whatever the case, I will be watching our dad; watching him gaze at one of his children who he held in his arms when they were tiny, who he brought that last glass of water at bedtime on so many nights, who he helped teach to walk and talk, whose funny little thoughts and verbal gaffs he faithfully recorded in his diary. He took pictures and movies of each of us; his sense of humor showing through on the film on many occasions; bald headed babies in boxes with pictures of Mr. Clean on them; and each picture, each movie, each memory, will be there in his mind as he listens to what may well be a death sentance for one of his beloved children.

A woman sits watching as her two daughters giggle and laugh together, one with a scarf around a bald head. Another woman tenderly helping her young adult son as he waits in his wheelchair for his turn in the line up of cancer victims. A little beauty in boldly striped jammies with a headband around her hairless pate, grinning up at her mother and father as they get ready to go into the clinic brothers and sisters in tow, and my Dad looking at my sister, quite possibly wishing it was he who was going through this instead of one of his children. Of the four of us, Patty is the one most likely to understand that look, the anguish and the pain, as she prepares to possibly say a far too early "good bye" to her own children, the only grandchildren in our immediate family. I wish I could somehow protect them all from this pain, these moments of impending loss that have haunted us with each step this disease has forced our family to take in directions we would never have chosen to go. It is a frightening thing, yet so simple and human it transcends a description of mere words. A parent is so in essence and not merely because of biology, and this has to be the hardest thing I have ever had to witness: the one who held a tiny hand when the owner was newly born now holding it as their child, their precious infant, faces death. It is a journey I hope fewer and fewer parents will have to make as science and faith continue to work together to overcome this death, this terrible unfolding of nature,this ending to all hope and life.

My Dad once said to me that no parent should have to bury their child. I think I am beginning to understand how he feels.

What Will The Postmark On This One Say?

Like a thief in the night
Entering unbidden, unwelcome, unwanted,
Under inky-wisp clouds creeping across a frozen,
secret moon.
Keeping little bits and pieces of our time,
Each precious moment gone, a shattered diamond; sand -
Making a desert where a garden needs to grow.
I saw a barren waste, glittering and sterile,
After my sister called.



Dear Mom,


As I mentioned in my prior letter, Patty is not doing too well. It is nearing either the end or a reprieve there is not a very good chance of having happen at this point, according to the doctors estimates. We have definitely not given up hope, but there is a letting go that seems to be taking place; a release of some emotional tether, of sorts, that has us preparing to say "Good-bye" or "Thank God!" Either way, the way is difficult for all of us right now, but especially for Patty.


There's still so much to tell you even though you're gone.
Forever is too long a time to wait
for heart's release. Old love will find its new dawn.


Dad and his "new" wife have been great. I think you would be glad to know how much time and energy she has put into helping Patty and the kids. She has also been very good to Mike, as well. Our step-mom is a real trooper and she loves Dad so much I am almost afraid for them, but they are both (especially Dad!) in good health and remaining very active, although I know trying to help raise another brood of young'uns was not something they anticipated when they met and married. Despite all of the love and support, I still miss you. It feels strange to not have you here while Patty goes through all of these terrible moments and bad news.


I know within Life's ebb and flow we long
to speak, to touch, to see; so we await.
There's still so much to tell you even though you're gone.


As the day for the transplant preparations looms nearer (we hope) there is a growing sense within me of wanting to be by Patty's side as much as possible, even if it's just to hold her hand or get her some ice. Mom, when she goes through the full body radiation that will kill her own ability to produce any kind of blood cells at all, please be in there with her. You are the only one of us who could be there beside her while the radiation is putting her into a point of no return if the transplant does not take hold. This is probably the most frightening part - they cannot do the transplant without poisoning her entire body with excessive radiation but they also cannot guarantee the transplant will take hold either. If things do not work out, please expect Patty to join you about two weeks from the day she is irradiated, the two of you will have to celebrate Brad's birthday there (where ever "there" is) together, while we try to pick up the pieces on this end.


Sometimes I tremble, like some woodland fawn,
because my child-heart grieves for mother late;
for heart's release. Old love will find its new dawn.


I really wish I could talk to you about all of this and you could reply in a conversational mode. Heartaches and intuition do not quite do the trick right now and you are missed with each day that passes as we all deal with these things with and for Patty.


So much to say with chances come and gone.
My heart's yearnings will not soon abate.
There's still so much to tell you even though you're gone.


All of our "I love yous" have been said; they are repeated as often as possible whenever we talk. Patty has Sue's hand to hold right now, but I do not know how long she will be up here and Arizona is a long way away. I also worry about your only two grandchildren. How will they make it without their mom to be there as they grow up? Two fat old aunties and a schizophrenic uncle may have their places in the lives of these children, but as we already know, no one can ever replace your own best Mom.

Why does loss release Love's poignant song?
In life, so much is held and said too late
for heart's release. Old love will find its new dawn.

I hope you are well and enjoying yourself. I have pictured you having tea with your mother, Sissy, and Emily Dickenson as I assume such things are possible in the realm you are now inhabiting. I hope to see you again, Mom, but not too soon. OK?


And so Life moves forever on and on.
For sweet reunion we with patience wait.
There's still so much to tell you even though you're gone.
For heart's release, old love will find its new dawn.

Love, Liz

Crying Forever Is Just Another Thing To Get Done Today

TODAY
(Randy Sparks)

Today while the blossom still clings to the vine
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
Ere I forget all the joys that are mine today

I'll be a dandy and I'll be a rover
You'll know who I am by the song that I sing
I'll feast at your table, I'll lie in your clover
I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing

Today while the blossom still clings to the vine
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
Ere I forget all the joys that are mine today

I can't be contented with yesterday's glories
I can't live on promises winter to spring
This is my moment and now is my story
Who cares what tomorrow will bring

Today while the blossom still clings to the vine
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
Ere I forget all the joys that are mine today


There have been many times of grief and stress for our family over the past few years, and during those times I have felt very strongly that I have been somehow gifted with the memories of certain songs. When our Dad had to undergo open heart surgery “Morning Has Broken” was my comfort as I drove the distances between home and hospital. When my Mom was dying, I had three lullabies; “Stille Nacht,” “All Through the Night,” and “Edelweiss.” I do not recall any particular comfort song while my Dad battled breast cancer surgery and the chemo and radiation treatments that it necessitated, but it is likely there was one. And now, with my sister dying of leukemia, with little hope given for the success of a bone marrow transplant, I have been finding comfort in the song transcribed above, though I am not sure why yet.

I realize now that “Morning Has Broken” was a song of genuine hope and simple faith. The three lullabies were the one my grandmother sang to my Mom when she was young, the lullaby I heard my mother sing to me, and the song my sister, Patty, used to sing to her two children when they were small enough to still be comforted by such things. Patty’s two children are my parents’ only grandchildren. I do not question that the songs are comforting, and that is the purpose they serve for me during times such as this, but it is still a little puzzling as to what the actual significance of my needing them or thinking of them may be. I do not worry about it, just wonder a bit sometimes.

Patty may only have a few more weeks to live. Her last bone marrow biopsy revealed an 80% concentration of leukemic cells in the marrow, and her only recourse is to be rushed into the transplant, although the chances of her survival are very slim even with the procedure. I was crying as I drove home from her daughter’s 10th birthday party tonight. I do not want my sister to die.

As I drove home it was as though my heart was pouring itself out with each tear, but in spite of a very real and profound grief the writer in me was whispering “Don’t do this now! It’s too good to just throw away in the car and you know you might not remember most of it by the time you get to the keyboard!” I will try to recall what my mouthy ego was so concerned about, but I will probably end up crying as I type, in order to pass at least some of those incredible thoughts on to those reading my blog.

Although I have received compliments on my reflective writing in the past, most of that writing has been the result of pain, anger and grief and I honestly wish I had not had so much about those subjects to convey. In the midst of the first waves of sadness, anger, and fear I feel as though I am screaming into an echoing void that sends my pain back in a silence so profound those screams become a physical entity with life of their own. Like slow, sad waves breaking upon a desolate and gray sand somewhere in time, harsh in the light of day but gentle in the weakness that flows from such emotion, the funereal melody of the water embodies itself in those same screams; echoing, always echoing, slipping and patting the shores of my emotions with an endless litany of broken hopes and pain. Even my anger has somehow mellowed or degenerated into something quiet, weaker than it used to be, perhaps because there is no one except God to be angry with right now.

All of my frantic fumblings, wondering if I might somehow discover a way to bargain with God for my sister’s life, have come to an end – what could I possibly offer such omnipotence; what promises could I even begin to make, that would convince a God of stone to take pity on this small and aching family; on my poor sister and her children?

As Patty stroked the cats who took turns resting on her lap this evening, as she celebrated her daughter’s birthday, as she looked at her son and each one of the rest of us in turn, I felt she was trying to begin saying good-bye. She is infinitely sad, and I am with her in her grief. Despite all of the fear and uncertainty, the utterly desolate grief and pitiful anger, there are moments of humor as well; who could not smile through their tears as they recognize a uniquely sisterly urge to sit as close up as possible to their sister, snuggling together, one sister on each side of her, together as one, as she goes through these horrible things. As we are all quite large, the image of the potential physical reality that popped into my mind as I was feeling this was ridiculous and I had to smile to myself at the thought. It is not a thought I could readily share with Patty, though. She has a much harder road immediately ahead of her now. I hope, though, that there will still be time for some small silly moments with her daughter, some sweet times with her son, some laughter and much love along with all of the tears and fear. My anger is dissolving as the realities hit home, and I do not know what exactly to do or say but am trusting in our family togetherness to keep such things appropriate and meaningful for Patty.

Any of you with sisters already have a “Patty” in your life, so I do not have to wish for you to know her because, if there is any love present at all, you already know my sister by heart. If you do not yet have, or never have had, a sister (or two) I do not think I can do Patty justice for your benefit. How many people do you want to permanently glue yourself to as if it will somehow keep them alive and by you forever? How many of you have felt the loss of a relationship finally growing in a love that has a physical presence within your corporeal being before it is torn asunder by death? How many of you know you are losing one of the very few people you have ever been able to laugh with until you cried, and about the silliest things? How many of you have lost, or are losing, one of the very few people who has known you their entire life and has forgiven more childish sin than the Catholic Church? Who else, except a sister, can love you for who you really are even when you don’t feel as if you could ever love yourself again because of some of the things you have done or said to each other? These things cannot be put easily into words, and are even more remote when stated to those with no sisters for reference.

It is a terrible, wonderful love that must break the walls of time into crumbling ruins in order to be with the ones it encompasses. It is a love too solid, too real for this earthly impermanence to ever contain. It is forever in its strength, scope, and being. It is eternity itself.

For Patty, My Sister

You are in my heart forever
Your face fixed firmly in my brain
I wish I knew I would also recall your voice
Once it’s gone
From this human plain
A thousand memories
Like snapshots
Surge and wane through each thought
My heart beats in endless
Longing to share some of its strength
To carry you to some safe place
Where you can continue
Where you will be able to live
And visit and share and hug
So we do not have to say
Good-bye too soon
You will always be too young
To die
To an older sister
Whose grief sometimes makes her think
Ridiculous thoughts you would laugh to hear
But they are born of a solid hard enduring love
You will never have to fear
Being without
Wherever your forever
Finds itself
At the break of that strange
Unwelcome and future day
I will be there with you in heart and mind
With you forever
To stay.

This Strange Thing Called "Hope"

The nature of hope has me wondering about many, many things. My sister's prognosis is not good right now. In fact, it is very bleak unless a lot of "ifs" happen in a certain order and very quickly. Between the chemo and radiation, Patty's heart and lungs have been damaged. The transplant will not take place unless there are less than twenty percent "blasts" in her bone marrow and she is able to physically withstand the treatments necessary in order to give the transplant the best possible chance to succeed. Trying to treat anything before the leukemia, i.e. her heart or lungs, would only delay treating the leukemia, which is the most immediate threat. Do the phrases "a rock and a hard place" or "catch-22" spring up in anyone else's mind, too?

I am not sure Patty holds out much hope for herself right now and I do not feel certain I know how to encourage her with any real hope, without spawning false hope, in either or both of us. My mind and heart feel dried out, arid, and it is difficult for me to think very clearly. It is as if all of my hopes and prayers have gone, yet again, either unanswered or answered in the cruelest and bitterest fashion possible. The thing I have feared the most, and it has contended with many, many fears brought out by this entire situation, now seems to be at the doorstep and determined to enter a place it will never be welcomed or wanted. I feel I am being forced into the transition from hoping for Patty's recovery to trying to make her last days, weeks, and months as positive and loving, comfortable and peaceful, as possible.

I really wish I could, somehow, make everything all right again; that I could say a prayer or touch her, knowing she will be healed, increasing the time she has left here on earth. I wish I could guarantee my nephew and niece that they will be able to have their mother with them for all of their future triumphs and tragedies; to share all of their joys, sorrows, and secrets. For myself I wish I could go on in life knowing my family is safe and whole although with each loss, experienced or impending, we seem smaller and weaker; held together less by strength than by a weakening glue that is degrading slowly and threatening everything we have held dear our entire lifetimes. It is not just my sister's heart that has been damaged by all of this, but the heart of our family. Is there anything that can heal that?

John Lennon's words, that "life is what happens as we make other plans," have haunted me for years. They are more true than he may have realized at the time he put pen to paper, writing a song of father and son, family and love, wisdom and humor. Did they merely sound "right" to him, or did he truly understand the depth and breadth of what he was communicating? It is the most difficult part of life to even begin understanding that death is a very real part of that particular equation, too. Was that on his heart and mind the day he first sang those words; first spoke them outloud? With those few simple words was he trying to express humanity's mortality, or just offering a brief phrase to encourage his young son in his pursuits in life? Did he also include, as an after thought, that questions were a large part of the foundation we build with each breath we take; steal? Does, in fact, death rule our lives or is there truly hope outside of our existence, outside our realm of influence? It seems to be what almost every religion offers and is based upon. I wonder what God truly thinks of all of this, what he feels, if anything, about our pain and limitations, but also about our beauties and strengths.

I hope the weather is mostly lovely, that my nephew and niece choose to behave and help make their mother's remaining time, be it long or far too short, happy and loving, that our father and step-mother find the strength to persevere in patience and love, giving and caring despite the considerable obstacles placed before them, that Patty's and my youngest sister is able to find the inner peace she will need to get through all of this, and that I am able to do so, as well.

May peace be yours; love and laughter. May your troubles be few, your pains be minor, and your days happier than ours seem likely to be.

Izzlebug

A Change of Name Seemed In Order

As those who read this unassuming blog know, our family has been weathering several rather grave crises recently. My biopsy is in three days and my sister has horrible sores in her mouth, a result of the chemotherapy killing off her white cells. The biopsy does not feel like that big a deal, sort of like knowing I need to have a tooth pulled - along those lines, and Patty's white count is going back up slowly so her mouth will heal, eventually. In the mean time, though, reality sucks.

I try to talk to Patty as often as possible, although that can prove difficult depending on how many other phone calls or visitors she has, necessary interruptions from doctors and nursing staff, and so on. Right now I just want to cry because her mouth is so sore. She, having been the one of the two (or four) of us to successfully reproduce, says the pain in her mouth is worse than labor. I was there when my niece was born and I know it really hurt a lot, so it is heart-rending to know that this sister, who has been to hell and back several times in the past year-and-a-half, is now enduring something more painful than anything she has known previously. You can cuddle an ailing infant and comfort them with gentle humming and back rubs, but how do you accomplish the same thing for another adult, whom you love very much, when it is difficult to even manage a visit, for whatever reason? I can't help feeling our Mom would know what to do; we are forever her children, but she cannot be with us right now and an older sister is simply not the same thing.

Dear God, I wish I could take some of the pain upon myself, if only for awhile, in order to ease Patty's trials in all of this! It is amazing how petty and small one's own dilemmas seem to become when compared with the genuine suffering of a beloved younger sister. The flip side to all of this is that, given the nature of our relationship, any attempts at a physical expression of comfort, no matter how lovingly offered, would only annoy her - morphine is more of a comfort right now than an overly anxious sibling.

At least now we take the time during the close of our conversations to tell each other, "I love you." At least we know it has been said, with hearts and minds in full accord and both of us hearing one another clearly. If it is true that the love you hold while on earth travels with you to where ever it is we all end up after passing from this world, at least we will be wealthy in an abundance of love to keep us warm and comforted for eternity. Nothing can ever rob either of us of that - ever.

When we were small
Perhaps I thought of you as
Some kind of wiggly intruder,
A competitor for Mom's hugs, snuggles,
And hums - her version of singing
Lovely lullabies.
As we have grown, through pain
And joy, trial and sorrow,
I have learned to know
And love you.
As we were a part of our mother,
As your children are a part of you,
As surely as that
You are my sister,
In my heart forever,
Never forsaken,
Never forgotten,
Forever loved.

May your relationships with brothers, sisters, and close friends be more special with each moment you spend together. May your squabbles be few and far between, and forgiveness in every breath you take in each others' presence.

Izzlebug

To Those Who Have Offered

This poem is intended as a "thank you" for all of those who have been keeping my family, and particularly my sister, in their prayers as we all go through this difficult and heart-rending time in our lives:

Prayers

“We are praying,”
I’ve been told
By those whose hearts
Are kind
Gentle minds and
Thoughtful deeds
From ones who cannot
Carry more
For those of us
In need.

“We are praying,”
They have said
When we have faced
Our worst dreads
We go through strife
Though with many qualms
But also knowing
The prayers
Are being passed around
For us
Like alms, from palm to palm.

“We are praying,”
Are the words
We may not feel
Are truly healing
But those prayers
Each kind word
Are really keeping us
From feeling
Totally alone
And in the dark
The healing, loving words
Of faith
Of others
Helps to steel our strength
And hold up our heads
On this truly bad day
I know then that God
In a non-human way
Is there to guide and
Heal and care
Through those who
Recall our family
In prayer.

Cancer Invades More Than Just a Human Body

Yesterday I received some news from my doctor that is not good but it is not that bad, it just merely carries the potential for something that could be bad. They found some calcifications in my right breast that had not appeared on the mammograms before. In all likelihood, they are benign but, given our family's history with this type of disease, even the "maybe" can feel almost intolerable. I was going to "tough it out" and not mention it to anyone because of all the grief and anxiety we have all been experiencing with Patty's leukemia battles, but the thought occurred to me that, on the off chance it is not benign, it would be a devastating bombshell instead of a potential problem when I did tell people, so I opted instead to tell my Dad and step-mom about it. We agreed to wait and tell my sisters after the biopsy, which takes place within the next two weeks. I will know for certain before the end of the month and, if the doctor's predictions and the statistics hold true, we will all be able to heave a well deserved, collective sigh of relief.

It was rough telling Dad, although not as horrid as the news of Patty's illness was when we all first learned about it. I did not cry except when we talked about the seriousness of Patty's illness relative to my own troubles, which pale by comparison, but it was still difficult for him to hear. My Dad has a schizophrenic son, one daughter with leukemia who has just been through her third round of chemo, another daughter ("She Who Declines to be Named") who is about to have a nervous breakdown at the thought of possibly losing Patty, and now me facing this potential diagnosis with an already diagnosed genetic predisposition for breast and ovarian cancers with an additional diagnosis of ovarian cysts, which get checked on again in a couple of days. All of this is the only reason I hesitated at all to tell him, but it seemed like not telling him could cause too much of a shock should the news be bad. In this situation it is difficult to know exactly what is best, but keeping communications open and up to date seems to be about the best way to handle things all around, even though it can be very painful to do so sometimes.

At the moment, though up at an odd hour typing my blog, I feel fairly calm and like things will work out with this potentially very bad situation. We have had so much to contend with that it seems doubly unfair for there to be any more stresses in any of our lives, but things keep piling on, travail upon travail, until the fan the "you-know-what" is supposed to be hitting has been long buried and we hardly know what to think or feel. I guess there is something to be said about feeling numb after all.

I tried very hard to remain upbeat and positive while talking to Dad and, in truth, I do not feel that "doomed" by the present difficulty because I know the most likely diagnosis will be that it is benign and there is little to worry about, at least for awhile yet, although I do feel nervous about the test and the possible bad tidings. I told Dad that it wasn't fair for Patty to be the one having all of the fun and that, until the end of the month, following the biopsy, I would not know anything except fear - which did get a weak chuckle from him. You really learn to find humor in the strangest situations, grim and difficult though they are, and it seems vitally important to be able to do just that - grim or not.

So, anyway, to anyone who may find their way to my blog, that is what this little family is going through at the moment. May your troubles be far fewer and of lesser import than ours and may you find love and laughter in the oddest places. It is training that will hold you in good stead for the future.

Izzlebug

For Ross

The ghost of our last kiss
Lingers softly on my lips
My heart aches for you
Even though it is only
The start of a new day
Be safe, my love, always
As you wander forth
Into a world undeserving
Of your sweet nature
(Sometimes well disguised)
Of your kind and gentle mind.
I smile as I recall the times
You have smiled or
You have laughed
And that carries me through
Each day like air or life itself
Your return each evening
Is the most welcome event
Of the day
Your greetings
Your complaints
All fall upon an eager ear
Eager to hear your voice
Always.

How Is This Supposed To Go?

Patty called the other day to let me know the leukemia is back. She goes back to the hospital tomorrow for another round of chemo. A study drug they were trying may have been what damaged her lungs, preventing her from going through the full body radiation needed to ablate all of the leukemic cells in order for the bone marrow transplant so now they may do what is called a "mini transplant" instead, which may work but they cannot say for certain. Her voice broke as she spoke of palliative care and dying despite all of the efforts made so far to save her. She's my younger sister and I do not know how to do this thing that is being required of all of us.

What do you say besides "I love you," "I'm so sorry," and "What can I do to help?" How can you hold another adult in your arms and rock her back and forth to try to comfort what will never quiet, never stop hurting, never be welcome? How do I give to her all of the love in my heart; a heart that is so sore right now hope cannot even glimmer there a great deal of the time? How do you cry to a God in His Heaven who has always seemed to have deserted you in every hour of need, in every crisis, in every moment where His divine and healing presence would be so wonderful? Why do other peoples' prayers get affirmative answers while all of mine seem to fall on deaf ears? Why are my sister, my family, myself, so unworthy of the honor of a simple miracle of medicine and divine grace? Why does God refuse to express caring and concern in human perceptable ways; in ways we can feel, touch, and understand? We are constantly reminded by scriptures of our imperfections and weaknesses, so why does the God who has declared us as such demand perfections we will never be capable of delivering? Why are the cries for healing, mercy, and kindness seemingly redirected into oblivion as my sister is forced to go through all of this? I feel so hurt, so grief-stricken, so helpless and so angry! Why does God always say, "No?"

I will see Patty tomorrow and the kids will be there, as will Dad, our stepmother, and our youngest sister. We will try to laugh and talk, try to bolster one another's hopes in the knowledge that some people have recovered when they were even worse off than Patty is right now, but it does not feel as if our emotional balance will be in anyway helped by this knowledge as we traverse a tightrope that skirts far too close to death. The way is craggy and dark; frightening beyond all comfort, painful beyond all hope. Where will we end up after our rollercoaster ride into Hell and back?

If this is the beginning of another end in our family, I hope we are able to fill the time with love and laughter, bright hopes and soft caresses of hands, cheeks, hearts, and comfort. If I end up having to say a "good-bye" I dread, one I will continue to hope will not have to be said anytime too soon, I hope Patty knows that my very heart and soul go with her and that the final kiss I give her upon her forehead will forever seal her mind, heart and spirit within my own heart, and she will live there forever, always my younger sister, always held close and forever loved.

Sisters Once Again

Although it is usual for my sister Patty and I to disagree, her illness has made such breaks in communication and affection all the more difficult to cope with. This made hearing her voice on the other end of the telephone line all the more important the other day. She was finally ready to talk and to listen and we were able to clear up the difficulties that have kept us seperate for these last several weeks in a matter of minutes. For the first time I was also able to tell her how all of the stuff her battles with leukemia have seemed to me. I told her how my being the oldest of the four of us has always made me feel a sort of protectiveness toward her and our other sister and brother, how I have always found myself defending them from babysitters, parents, and once even from the police. I cried as I told her how hard it has been to see her going through all of this, that I do not want to lose her, and how worried I have been about her children, my only niece and nephew. I told her how I would gladly go to the very ends of the earth to try to help her get through this and I told her how very much I love her. Patty listened to me and then told me that she is not doing very well right now, that her lungs have been damaged by the chemo and radiation and that she may not be able to have the full bone marrow transplant procedure because of it. She told me how difficult it is for her to just get a chore done or walk around the house a little without becoming short of breath and that she now has to carry oxygen with her where ever she goes. She told me that they might have to do the transplant in a way that is not as effective because the full body radiation would damage her lungs even more and that the longer they had to wait for her lungs to heal and function better, the more of a foothold the leukemia will have and that that might also prevent her from having the transplant. She said she might die. I never knew until now how happy and how heartbroken you could be at one time. I do not want to have to say good-bye to my younger sister, but nature may leave us no choice except to continue reminding each other how very much we love one another until there is no more time left to say such things. Oh God! Why Patty? Why the only one of us to have children? Why not me - I'm the oldest? How a mother must feel when she has to watch a child suffer and die while standing there helpless must be at least something like being an older sister watching her younger sister do the same. Patty, if I knew I had fifty or sixty years left to live and I could somehow give some of them to you, half would have been yours in a heartbeat. If I could somehow discover in time the way to lay hands on you and heal you, it would already be done. And if heartfelt prayers and tears can wrest anything from the grip of God and Heaven you will get better.

I am on a quest that may seem foolish to some. It involves reading books about things I have always cast a suspicious eye on before, trying to find a way to get water from Lourdes so we can toast your health together even if it ends up being only symbolic of sisterly love, trying to find hope where medicine has failed to give any, and trying to make love into such a solid and tangible thing you cannot help but be healed.

I am your older sister. I may not be able to do more than that, but I certainly cannot do any less.

So Much Going On

There has been so much going on the past two days, more so in the world at large than in our backyard, but still so much to choose from when sitting down to write. A police officer in Kentucky was brutally murdered in his car by a suspect he had been kind to, Ruth Bell Graham passed away yesterday, the little red squirrel seems to be missing from our home, and yet another Muslim family has murdered a daughter for being merely human and wanting what every young girl wants and dreams of having - true love.

How can any religion have gone so wrong that it, seemingly, encourages the savage murder of one's children over matters of embarrassment? I realize these people would argue it is of much more import than that, that it is a "command from God," that honor and embarrassment are not equal - anything to justify the action at least in their own hearts and minds. I also notice it is never sons who are killed for these reasons, highlighting once again the disregard for women so obvious and prevalent in most, if not all, discussions of Islam. It troubles me because the tales I have heard of Mohammed and the women in his life do not sound as if this was his attitude toward women at all and the quotes I have heard from the Quran are not specific and subject to interpretation, although there are a lot of the verses and stories I have not heard or read. It also troubles me that this particular religious group seems to be having a much more difficult time evolving to meet the practical needs of any religion in today's world. It is as if many of these people are still stuck in a much more primitive and brutal time past when such things were the "only" options for parents when trying to control their children. Perhaps it is more a question of parents not knowing when to let go, to let their children finally take responsibility for their own actions and souls - either way it illustrates a base and brutal attitude toward women, a prejudice toward women, and a total lack of love and understanding for their daughters that is profoundly shocking and savage. The shame of murdering your own child for merely being human should far outweigh any thoughts or ideas of that daughter having shamed the family because she wanted love instead of some brutal arrangement in which she has had no choice. The shame is on the parents for their willing adherence to such a backward, ignorant, and vicious system, not upon the daughters who are so miserably dispatched by the brutes Islam permits the men in families to become in dealing with such trivial situations. Shame upon shame is theirs, not their daughters.

It troubles and amuses me at the same time to note that Ruth Bell Graham would have been slaughtered like these girls long before she could have even begun to become such a marvel of womanhood had she been Muslim by birth. She was too independent for any Muslim family to have coped with in any other way, yet she was true to her God and the calling she believed she had received from Him. It is too bad that the controversy over the place of their burial had to mar the final years of both she and her husband. It is too bad the pretensions and greed for publicity and fame has gone to the head of their eldest son, and it is too bad that, in this world, even such a well-known and spiritually aristocratic older couple have been obviously preyed upon by that same son in his quest for an immortality his parents never sought for themselves. Another type of shame but, perhaps, one that is excusable enough in both Islam and Christianity because it is a son instead of a daughter doing all of these things. Again - Shame!

One of the things Ruth Graham was noted for was her kindness, a kindness consistent with her Christian beliefs and one emulated - whether consciously or on his own - by the police chief of a small Kentucky town whose life was cut short by one of the people he had tried to show kindness to while pursuing his tasks as the town's only police officer. A light has gone out forever in America with this man's murder; a light that shines too infrequently in our rapidly moving, deteriorating world. I hope the rest of the criminal element in that town gangs up to let the drunken assailant know what a disservice he did not only the police chief, but himself and every other person the chief tried to help with kindness and consideration in the execution of his job. The ones who benefitted most from this man's quiet example and courage, though, are the least likely to truly appreciate what has been lost - his prisoners. Another conundrum of the times, perhaps, or just another reason such people are all the more important in a world spiralling toward its own implosion - a world that will eventually die "not with a bang, but with a whimper."

Last upon my list is the little red squirrel missing from our drain spouts, which it used as a highway around our roof. I have not heard it running around upon our roof for several days, it has not peeked in at me while I am in the bathroom or through the sunroof windows as I sit and type. Its bright eyes and lovely red fur with pluming tail are gone and I can only assume the fisher cat I thought I spotted several weeks ago may have been instrumental in its disappearence. I will miss watching the little squirrel as it raided our bird feeders or maintained its sovereignty of our back deck. Its chatter and skittering will no longer be a part of the many sounds of outdoors I have so enjoyed listening to while sitting quietly indoors on the warmer days of Spring. I will no longer be able to observe the interactions of this little being with the community of blue jays and cardinals, mourning doves and grackles, chickadees and juncos and an occaisional field mouse or chipmunk here and there, that has been the group our backyard has supported and encouraged this year. The cardinals will still sound their perimeter call and raise their young, the other birds, especially the jays, will visit and chat and spy upon me as I spy upon them, but there is no longer the bright eyed little squirrel to make it all even more interesting.

Death and loss are already such an integral part of merely existing that it makes no sense to murder one another at all. Nature will eventually render all of us to the base elements from which we are formed; why make such an effort to assist what we all spend our rather short lifetimes trying to resist, each hoping to live happily to as old an age as possible?

May your day be blessed with life, kindness, and forgiveness.

Izzlebug

To Mom, Who Would Have Been 75 This Thursday

The acrid, arid, bitter ache
Is gone, although
Some days are still and sad
Calling you to chat
Seems possible
Until memory reminds,
Tugs at the scars
Tattooed upon my heart.

Life goes on despite
The searing flame of loss,
Now merely simmering.
The frustrated grief
Still demanding the question, “Why?”
Does not demand so petulantly
Any more.

Ivy covers barren brick facades,
Tendril by tendril growing back,
Like hearts after the death
Of a mother; genesis of life.

Going ever on
Softly disguised by kind and verdant
Leaves; lush vines.
Cold and hard
Somewhere underneath
But resting, at last.

Knowing pain is past
While memories fade gently
Shading thoughts of tenderness
Caressing memories of you.

You held me close when
I was small; taught me to walk
And stay safe in your heart.
It is my turn now and
You are safe
Within this heart,
Never more out of place.

Dear Mom,

Although I still wish you could be here with all of us right now, it may have been a blessing for you, strangely, that you are not. You did not have to see the World Trade Towers go down after terrorists rammed into them in planes filled with innocent passengers, nor have you had to follow the news of war or the machinations of a president of dubious integrity largely due to his own superficial religious pretentions and an inexcusable stupidity where matters of war are concerned. However, he has been very good for business and Eisenhower would be proud of the way he and two of his modern day predecessors have been keeping the military-industrial complex well greased and running to the stock holders content. You have been missed, but considering what you have missed, I cannot honestly say you would have been better served, knowing the state of your health those final months, surviving to see all of this other stuff.

One very painful thing that is happening right now is Patty's battle with leukemia. You would have thought immediately of the little girl who lived in your mother's old house, before our family ever moved in, who died of leukemia, and you would have worried, again, that it might be contagious, despite the ensuing years of good health and well-lived lives. We all miss you, although Dad's "new" wife has really been such a help and support to all of us, but especially for Patty. I know Patty misses you and wishes you could have seen Katie play the violin or one of Brad's art projects. They are both something quite special.

I still think of picking up the phone to call, although the stab of pain no longer stabs, merely tugging gently where it used to hurt so much. I still see your face in my thoughts and wish we could talk again, even if we got crabby with each other and disagreed on what was being done for this person or that one and why. I missed you last year at my graduation, and will think of you again next Spring when I have finished my Master's Degree. I hope you would have been as proud of me as you always were of Patty and Sue, although my achievements are arriving belatedly in life.

We never had any children. If we had, I wanted to name a little girl after you and Ross's mom or a son after both dads. But, it never happened, so we dote upon our pussycats which, I suspect, was all you ever saw me doing anyway. I remember most of our good moments, a few of our bad ones, and some of the times we laughed together until we cried. I remember how you liked some of my poems and asked me to sing your favorite Christmas carol for you that last year. I have all of the words somewhere and want to learn it by heart, but have not yet gotten to it. Perhaps it is that I have been so busy with school or, perhaps, it is because I still cry whenever I try to sing it and have to stop in the middle to blow my nose, which would have made you laugh at me. I did not mind your laughing at me sometimes, Mom, I just wish I could have figured out how to manage that particular thing on purpose. Others have laughed in the same way, reminding me of you, and I still am not too sure just what it is I have done or said to cause it, but there it is.

We are all hanging in there, getting on with our lives and hoping for good things in all of our futures, but mostly remembering how much we miss you as we try to stay positive for Patty's sake, as well as the kids', while she endures all of the pain and indignities of being, hopefully, cured of leukemia. She will not let anyone hold her hand, I think she decided that was your place and you are not able to be here for her. That makes me sadder than anything else, Mom, that Patty cannot have you there when her head hurts badly or she is so sick from the chemo and radiation. We are also afraid we may have to say our goodbyes to her far too soon, something you could have helped us with, although we do not speak of it most of the time.

I cannot imagine having had a better mother or a different one. You are so much a part of me that I cannot let you go, not really, but I am able to say goodbye right now because I know where to find you no matter when I call.

I love you, Mom.

Love,
Liz

Some Poems

To Alex:

It was already too late
By the time I met you
The wariness was already
In your young eyes
But still I hoped
That the promise
That was slowly
Leeching out of you
Would somehow win the day
It did not

You are so smart
But "teacher's pet"
Is a worse fate
Than the ignorance
Your choices will beget
But I cannot criticize
A young man whose life
Flashes before his eyes
Whenever (if ever)
He starts to realize
the trap that he has laid
For himself in the gang-colored
Shade he now rests in
Under dimmer stars
And a smaller moon
And sun

A life seemingly
Just begun was
Over before we met
Now when I hear on the news
Some young man
From your neighborhood
Is dead - shot dead -
By some other lost boy
Lost in the fear and lies
I cry until I can find out
If it was you
Or maybe one of your
Brothers
Dead
Never having gotten to live
Free from the servitude
Of lies or sin or fear
Never more free
To at least try
To begin again


Walmart Hillbillies

A little girl missing one of her
Second-hand shoes
Wiggling gloriously free
Bare toes for a few moments at least
Curly light brown hair and
A sweet little girl smile
Eyes alight with love
As she gazes at her Dad awhile
Slender - almost gaunt -
He looks back at her
Baseball cap (a' la brand name tools)
On his slightly misshapen head
Maybe his Momma drank too many beers
He looks around for his little son
A wisp of a child
Dissapating down the aisles
Like a kitten-footed mist
A mystery - a whisper -
All three needed a wash
All the clothes were dirty too
Daddy was glaring - sullen and unshaved -
Mad at a world
That does not have room in its heart
To really care
Whether he can find his daughter's shoe
Or bathe his kids or himself
Is there even running water in their
Shack or house?
Little brownie-topped sweetie
Minus a shoe
Smiled as she looked back
Wiggling her bare toes
Under the glare
Of a thousand lights
That do not shine for her

An Open Letter to Paris Hilton

Dear Paris,

I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am for all of the troubles you're having right now, whether by your own hand or by the hands of other people. I would like to apologize for the part I may have taken in all of this when I "puh-leezed" the reports of your statement that you were this generations "Audrey Hepburn." Perhaps, when all is said and done, that will end up being the case but, as a die-hard Audrey fan I felt called upon to defend her unique and beautiful legacy which, unfortunately, you do not seem to be creating for yourself.

You are still very young and, having grown up (or trying to grow up) sheltered as you were by the wealth of your family, you may have missed a few beats here and there in your odyssey. I feel badly that you were taught that your behavior was somehow above the law; that wealth could prevent accountability for personal actions in this life. Perhaps in some situations this is the case, but in so many others that information is not only erroneous, but potentially deadly. What could ever give an otherwise intelligent young woman the idea she could drink and drive, thereby endangering her own life as well as the lives of others? You may actually be getting away with a much lesser sentence than many others that have done what you have done and lived to talk about it. Be grateful that it is only 45 days and that you are alive to live them. I am glad you are alive to live them and so you should be, too.

I feel very badly about the behavior of those in the court and legal system that feel it is somehow "OK" to importune you for autographs and such while you are trying to attend to your legal difficulties. Perhaps they were raised with an erroneous idea of what is acceptable behavior as well. You certainly do not deserve the taunting I have read from people who do not know you at all and you do not deserve to be made fun of for a fault that so many before you, and who will come after, have been guilty of also. You do not deserve to be condemned solely upon an issue of mere human weakness as though it were a premeditated or vicious criminal act. Fortunately no one was killed or maimed and, hopefully, the sentence given will stand forever as a reminder to you that inebriated driving is not the "good idea" it may seem like at the time.

You need to take the law and those who are tasked with enforcing it more seriously despite their failings, just as I am hoping people will start to do with you. Police officers and judges, for the most part, are just trying to "get the job done" and are people who genuinely care enough about other people and their lives, as well as the state of society as a whole, to work in law enforcement - we, and you, need to be thankful they are there to help keep us from harming ourselves and others when we are not at our best as adults. Because you are an adult, you must learn to accept adult responsibilities and, unfortunately, part of your responsibility is accepting the error of your prior actions and accepting the ruling of the court that has been deemed a just retribution for those actions. I do not feel victorious or somehow "right" or vindicated now that you are in this situation, just a little sad.

You are a pretty young woman with your own set of trials and tribulations to overcome. You are still trying to find yourself, I think, just as many young adults in their twenties are, and you will succeed as long as you are determined and willing to accept the burdens that accompany the privileges. You seem to be a member of a group of misfits, somehow. Wealthy, famous misfits to be sure, but still misfits, as though none of you really seems to know where or how you are supposed to fit in to life or what you're supposed to do to discover that place you need and want so badly. The secret to that is that you get to create your own place in this life. You learn to see how important you are in the lives of those you love, just as they have importance in your own life. You get to decide what you believe in, who you want to be, how you feel an adult should behave and then emulate your own thoughts. If you want to behave like a princess I would suggest taking your cue from Sarah Crew in Frances Hodgekin Burnett's book, "A Little Princess." In its innocence and sentimentality there is a great deal of common sense about handling the wealth you are so used to it seems common place. Such monetary wealth as yours is far from common and you are placed in a unique position to actually , materially, be able to better the world around you if you choose. That is both a gift and a burden and I sincerely hope you are able to handle it well.

Most of all I would like to tell you to stand tall. Do not merely accept your punishment, but soar through it triumphantly. Do not let those who taunt you cause you the undue stress they hope and intend to cause. Remember that those who do not have the privileges you share are often jealous and do not control themselves well when given someone to scorn who has always seemed above such things. Maintain a brave face, cry privately, hold fast to those who love you and be glad you will soon be back home with them. Most of all never, never get back behind the wheel of your car after you have been drinking or indulging in any other mind-altering substances. And, finally, never forget the love and support of your mother and family and know that anyone of your current friends who remain true to you through this will be the better friends for it after this is over.

I am rooting for you, Paris. You can do this!

Izzlebug

How Low Can We Go?

After re-reading my last two posts I realize how very much like the children we used to be my two sisters and I still are in our relationships with one another. The only difference is the situation with Patty's leukemia, which puts an entirely new and frightening slant upon the dysfunctionalities we have always displayed and, indeed, have been clinging to for all of these years, for whatever reason. You would think that something so familiar and so obvious would be fairly simple to overcome, but this is not the case despite repeated attempts on all of our parts to do so.

Well, we are all still here, for however long that may be, and each day is a new opportunity to resolve these issues and move forward, together, in our relationship as sisters. Now we will just have to wait to se how that plays out, in the meantime though, the mean and horrible Izzlebug is going to take a few deep and cleansing breathes and enjoy the peace that results from not having to deal directly with the over-wrought emotions of two other people in addition to her own.

As I have said before, I will always love Patty and "She-who-has-no-name" (having declined being so named in her elder sister's blog), and I will always worry about them, care whether anything bad may be happening in their lives, love and care about my niece and nephew, and want be there if they choose to call or not. I cannot, at this point, do anything more and love precludes my being or doing anything less. It is by Patty's choice we are not in touch right now and, although I feel strongly we have things that need talking about, I will not force a discussion she does not want upon her which means that the silence is our only recourse for the time being. I worry about Patty's health - for more than obvious reasons, I think - and want to be there for her and the kids but she, by her determined choice of words and her continued insistence upon what does not allow our relationship to be a healthy one, decrees this silence. I know she is ill and that it is likely affecting what she says much of the time as well as how she says it but, once said and heard there is no taking it back without some discussion, and Patty does not feel up to having one right now; again, because of the illness.

If there is anyone who has had any experience with this type of thing out there, who reads this, please be aware that any constructive criticism or generally helpful hints would be most welcome to me right now. In the absence of those however, I choose to respect Patty's last statements to me and I will stay away until my presence is requested, which it may never be again for all I know. In the meantime, I have a life and an education to attend to, I have my boyfriend and our cats, I have the many, many chores that were put on hold while I finished my undergraduate degree, and there are our friends, who are not as inconsequential as their being mentioned last may seem to indicate. I still have relationships with our Dad and step-mother and our brother (for the moment at least, as the dysfunctionality our family has so painstakingly developed over the years sometimes encroaches there as well) and other family members too.

We are finally experiencing the warmth and sunshine that the advent of Spring seems to promise, but which has not been much in evidence so far. The ceiling fan is circulating the soft, warm air and the neighbor's dog barks an occasional comment into this same air at other dogs, birds, cats, flying things, or what ever else a dog may bark at on a beautiful day like this. There is the gentle sound of falling water emanating from the kitty fountain, and it is too warm and bright for the birds, as they seem to have all disappeared somewhere into the shadows of the treeline. This is a day to relax, get some quiet tasks completed, read stretched out in a chair just out of reach of the sunlight, or nap. Despite exhaust emissions, pollen counts, global warming, and dissident sisters, this day is soft in its beauty, and quiet and warm in its existence; a day for gentle miracles of healing for the soul, mind, and heart. Even the hum of several computers all running in tandem does not feel or seem at all out of place today. It is a day of things being where they should be, whether those places have been wrought by trauma of some sort or not; whether there is no peace anywhere else on this planet; this day is serene and peaceful in its execution, soft in its presence.

I hope my sisters, brother, and Dad and step-mother are experiencing some of this as well; it is good for the soul to have a day such as this in the midst of all the trials and tragedies of which human lives are so many times composed. I wish I could take the breath of this day and send it, via the spirits of all of us, to both of my sisters, breathing peace into all of our hearts and minds, if only for one very brief and healing moment. I also wish they could know how much I truly love and care for them, but they would not believe that right now, so I do not try for the moment.

There will be cards sent, news received via familial lines of communication that remain unbroken, and at some point, perhaps, a discussion will evolve, but it will take a long time. I hope it is time Patty has, because I hope she will have many more years to spend in which there may finally be room for this discussion, because I hope my nephew and niece have their mother with them for a long while yet to come, because I hope "She-who-has-no-name" will eventually manage to get hold of her emotions and gain control of her fears, and because I still long for a true and viable cure for our brother's illness, as well. We are all so frail, yet so strong, it can be confusing, frightening and painful as well as wonderful, inspiring, and joyful just to be alive.

My love and best wishes to all of you. May your lives be simpler, your relationships more peaceful, and your hearts more pure and strong than ours are at this moment.

Izzlebug

Loss and Grief

I Love You

There will be no funeral in my heart today
Although we are forever gone our seperate ways
Because my hope for you will always be
A life lived well, happily, and fully.
We go our seperate ways,
With neither looking back;
I wish I could have been the one
Whose love and heart had meant
Something more to you, but it was not to be.
If time ever softens your heart
I hope you manage to think of me
kindly.

While love may hold many mysteries
Hatred, derision, and contempt do not.
They are killers from the start
And having settled in your heart
Far too long ago to leave
Any room for a sister
You never really knew;
Or perhaps the problem stemmed
From my being too much like you.

Another Conundrum of My Life

I really do not know how to write what I need to write at the moment, but I will try.

Due to a disagreement between my sister and me, I will not be able to share anymore updates about her struggles with leukemia with those of you who may be interested in such things. Suffice it to say, I have been cast eternally into her outer darkness and have been cut off from contact with or about her. Please do not let your imaginations get too frisky here, as your guesses about the situation would likely be exaggerated and incorrect. There were not any raised voices between us, just a lot of unfinished stuff from our having been sisters for so many decades and our not seeing eye to eye on certain things. Not seeing me, though, was and is Patty's choice, as is the keeping me from knowing what is going on with her treatments, etc.

The really sad thing is that this type of thing has been going on between us practically our entire lives and, try as I have, it has never really been overcome by either of us - she is adamant and I am unclear as to exactly what to do except, as was suggested by another family member, lie to her about things, and that I will not do. The trouble is that, right now, Patty seems to need the lies. In this situation, which has me feeling a little desperate but not surprised, Patty seems to have given up on a lot that she would normally have had the energy to at least face, if not fight, and it makes me feel that, instead of hoping to live, what energies she does manage to garner are being spent on planning to die. Perhaps it is that I have not been told her case is without any real hope (I hope this is not the case), or that Patty herself has just reached a point where she feels more comfortable with the thought of dying than with continuing to live. I do not know.

It is also odd that, on this day of very sad sisters, the sun has broken throught the clouds and rain and is doing its utmost to stream in through the windows. The sky is a perfect "summer day" blue with just a few wisps of clouds present left to testify to the fact that rain does exist but is blissfully and thankfully absent for the moment. There is also an overweight bluejay living in our yard with his more comely compatriots. I wonder if, in bluejay society, they also call him names like "Fatty" and make fun of him, as people are so inclined to do, or if they accept him and do not worry if he takes a while longer to catch up to them as they forage for seeds and water in our strangely chill New England Spring weather. I would like to get a photograph (if I can find my camera, etc.) so others can see that humans are not the only creatures with obesity issues. Yet, he looks reasonably cheerful and seems well able to fly about, escaping danger or chasing sunbeams, as the mood of the moment may dictate - I do not know what bluejays do for fun after their communal meals on our deck railing, but it must be something they really enjoy, as they look like they have had a good time when they finally arrive at this portion of their morning rounds.

Any insights into sisters with leukemia or bluejay behaviors that anyone reading this blog may have to offer will be most welcome. I love Patty and, even if the bitterness and resentment she seems to harbor toward me never dissipates, I will always hope she is one of the many who do manage to recover, that she will live a long and happy life with her children, watching them grow, get out into lives of their own, and maybe eventually having families and children of their own.

I would like to think my sister will get to be there for her first grandchild, get to hold the little girl or little boy on her lap and feel what grandparents get to feel when that happens for the very first time. It is a special treat that I will never get to share, not because of the outer darkness thing but, because I do not have any children of my own. I hope Patty still has many sunny and wonderful days ahead of her that she will be able to share with her children and the rest of the family (exception as noted above). I hope there are family celebrations and quiet moments of great love yet to be seen in her life, as they cannot be present right now if all she is doing is choosing to live her death ahead of time.

I hope that God is very kind in a human- perceptable way to my sister and her children and that, whether miracualous or not in the sense of divine intervention, He lets her live. If that is not to be I hope Patty chooses to live with everything she has until she is no longer able to manage it, so she and her kids will have nothing except love and the best times possible to recall when all is said and done. Perhaps she is not aware of how much their happiness now and then depends upon her and her attitudes, her actions and her choices. If she is depressed, which I would think is very likely under the circumstances, I hope there is someone she finds she can confide in whose advice will be both wise and comforting, and that she will manage to focus on acquiring the energy she needs to live her life, however much of that she may be granted, rather than dwell in the gloom of an impending death that medical science may yet be able to stave off for a number of years yet to come. This is everything I can give Patty right now, and it is given willingly and freely in the hope that she will be able to take joy in the precious parts of her life that are still vital and flowing, waiting for her return from the hospital and as determined to stay with her as her own skin.

To my precious sister, Patty, I send my best hopes, thoughts and love, and because she has chosen to not have me present in her life for the time being, I also send my forgiveness in the hope that she will, someday, also be able to send the same to me.

Izzlebug

World Peace or Whirled Peas; Is There a Difference?

Lately I have been trying, in addition to everything else, to learn the words and tune to "Let There Be Peace On Earth." (I'll include the lyrics I found to the song at the end of this blog posting.) It has made me wonder if world peace may, indeed, be a possibility or whether it is a merely Utopian dream that can never be fully realized. I feel strongly that world peace may very well be possible where a Utopian society is not.

Part of reaching for world peace has to be done with the recognition that "perfect" is impossible in an imperfect world, for one thing. World peace can become a practical, political reality - granted with tremendous difficulties - but we need to realize a few things before it can take its place in the lives of humanity at large. Firstly, we need to acknowledge that there will still be crime; that creeps, jerks, liars, cheapskates, adulterers, and selfishness in all of its many forms will still be very much with us. There will still be murders and car accidents, babies will still die of hunger, natural disasters will still take their toll, children will still be abused, ignorance will still run rampant, and cures for the most deadly diseases may never be found; all of these things will still exist even if world peace is achieved. This makes the concept much less appealing, but it is necessary to mention all of these negative aspects in order to get at the core of what a genuine and lasting world peace might entail.

The one major criteria for a formal world peace is, and must remain, an end to war on both national and international levels with there being no military interventions in civil affairs permitted unless absolutely necessary, and that type of decision would have to become subject to a world court of some sort in order to be enforceable. Negotiations for world peace might also have to involve a mutual agreement to forbid or end certain totalitarian or dictatorial types of government and outlaw genocides and political imprisonments across the board, which many countries, if not all, might find too difficult to condescend to when everyone would want to be the ones in charge.

Another venue that would have to be discussed that might pose major roadblocks is the desire of most major world religions for their religion to be the one in charge of everything. This is, perhaps laudable in that it is a sign many people are seeking of have found a moral compass that suits them, but no one religion can be permitted so much political power as that, unless what we want is not truly world peace but merely the selfish and despotic ambition for world domination. This is also one reason the church and the state desperately need to remain seperate. It needs to be enough to have a very general recognition at the national level of the majority religious affiliation, but religious concerns and beliefs need to be kept firmly and resolutely out of governmental venues except on the personal level, with each individual acting according to their own good conscience as they participate in the running of their country, city, town, or home. This alone would ensure a freedom of religion that would be critical to preserving the very diversity that, aside from causing the frictions we must live with every day, makes this world such an interesting and special entity and so very worth preserving and fostering. It is only when we stop threatening or feeling threatened by the religious beliefs of others that we will be able to take a positive step forward toward world peace. In light of the current climate in which every nation and every person presently exists, this one step may be the most important to achieving such a goal and is certainly at least one of the most necessary.

It would also likely involve some discussion about the potential creation of a single world-wide governmental system, but I would oppose this as being one of the most potentailly harmful ideas to the world at large and to the many and varied societies, cultures, and religions this world possesses. This would mean that each nation would have to remain autonomous but willing to acquiesce to a world tribunal on matters of peace and military interventions at the state or country level, which, in turn, would hopefully prevent any need for the same at international levels.

Negotiations for a practical and realistic world peace would also have to take into consideration all of the most basic reasons nations have made war in the past, among them the fight to procure natural resources with which to care for their native populations. There can be no true world peace without the conviction and willingness required to alleviate the problems of famine and rampant disease found in most, if not all, third world countries by those countries more blessed in natural resources and scientific benefit. The world cannot move into an era of genuine peace without addressing the problems that might reasonably threaten such a peace almost immediately upon its being mutually declared. There would also have to be a redistribution of many of the worlds resources in order to allow those nations whose poverty exceeds their GNP to revive and survive, while also stopping the overuse and abuse of highly abundant resources available elsewhere.

There are also many global issues that would have to be recognized and regulated as aptly as possible, global warming and its catastrophic effects upon various environments and the weather world-wide, being one of the most urgent.

A more egalitarian policy toward the general world population would have to be adopted,with sufficient safeguards put in place to ensure that the world would never again be ruled solely by those with the most guns or who lived their lives clad in the protections of being members of the top 2% financially of the entire population. This would mean that certain political schemes and practices and many traditions of business and power playing would have to be relegated to the trash heap - this would definitely cause a few ripples in the waterworks, but anyone who believes this would all be fairly simple needs to climb out of their personal dream world and back into reality.

Most, if not all, nations would have to be willing to transition their governments into a more democratic direction and many current world leaders would have to be willing to step down. The general population would also have to have certain assurances, such as their leaders no longer being able to live above the laws required of the majority of the inhabitants of this earth. There could be no more executive privileges extended in order to whitewash blatantly criminal behavior and the methods of selection for government officials and heads of state would have to become sufficiently objective in order to prevent any one person in any one country from ever gaining a majority of power either politically or militarily; no more dictators, despots, tyrants, murderers, or thieves. My personal preference for selection of the leadership is to utilize a process similar to our current jury selection process, with service being obligatory, recompense in line with the median national income, and certain guidelines as to education and character being tantemount. This would preclude most of today's world leadership but "That's the way the cookie crumbles!"

It also might surprise some people to realize that, in their pursuits of diplomacy and finding solutions to tense or volatile world class issues, they have already been working in this direction for quite some time. Perhaps the time is coming when all such activities and efforts will finally be classfied according to their level of importance in the pursuit of world peace and will, eventually, help clarify just what roads must be taken more assiduously than others, what concessions are truly the most critical, and just how world peace should be defined in order to make it clear that it is not merely some Utopian dream, but a concrete and genuine potential in which we can all participate and share.

Lastly, at least for now, is the fact that all of this would be taking place over several years, if not decades. Changes this radical cannot take place overnight, next week, next month, or even next year. They have to be planned, thought about, discussed and worked on by any number of people adept at their chosen task and well educated in their fields. Major problems such as world hunger and famine, disaster relief and the restraining of political corruption must still be worked on at the lower levels until a working world peace can be discovered and implemented. It is a miracle of major proportions that will take time to evolve, but it is a goal worth fighting for, worth pursuing, and worth the wait; it is the one, true miracle God may have placed solely in human hands.

Presented to all of you in love and hope for a brighter and better future for all of us,

Izzlebug

"Let there be peace on earth
and let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth,
the peace that was meant to be.
United here together,
we are family.
Let us walk with each other
in perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me,
let this be the moment now;
with every step I take
let this be my solemn vow:
to take each moment,
and live each moment
in peace eternally.

Let there be peace on earth
and let it begin with me."

Author Unknown