tsunami
It took only 21 months to become a widow, an orphan, and an empty-nester
tsunami wave
began miles away
the earth below the ocean’s floor shifted
violent, noiseless, unseen
Unaware
ending the school year, details of a summer vacation, the wedding to plan, coffee to brew, bathtubs to scrub, birthday candles to light
silently headed our way
This silence
this lull between cancers invited us to believe
all is well
the wave first touched the shore
MRI revealed hidden tumor
fuck - it’s back
or never really went away
A treatment plan
written and performed
upending lives
it didn’t stop there
A mother, unable to bury her only son
with outstretched arms surrendered
to cancers of her own
A memorial service
written and performed
that unrelenting wave advanced still
The telephone rang
“Dad was cleaning his gun. It slipped from his hand and fired.”
Accidental death
the sheriff’s report read
Another memorial service performed
this time out at sea
Mom settled into the widowhood no one saw coming
lifelong diseases ordered her death long before his
yet here we are
surely this is where it all stops
Glioblastoma
the final word in our Cancer Center Binder
only three days and I joined mom in that club
neither of us signed up for
Another memorial service
written and performed
roiling, steamrolling
the destruction thundered on
Mom’s work here now done
she writes
”Tell the doctors to remove this breathing tube.”
her eyes plead
I am tired. I am ready. Please let me go.
My last memorial
written and performed
for now
the relentless wave gave one final push
Kathy was to move into a group home at age eighteen
for her own independence.
now, as someone limited in cognitive and verbal abilities, her grief exploded
the move came before her fifteenth birthday.
no one was injured
no reports
filed.
A transition plan
written and performed
the steamroller devastation quietly ceased
the tide sucked back out to sea
taking with it precious lives
shards of identities
litter the shoreline
A plea
no more memorials
to write or to perform
This is devastating and beautifully controlled at the same time. The tsunami metaphor carries the reader through unbearable accumulation without ever losing clarity. “Shards of identities litter the shoreline” will stay with me.
This is beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. I felt every word, Glenna. My heart is with you. Thank you for your extraordinary words. 💖🙏🦋