Thursday, September 29, 2011

Cancer by Andrew Adar

Mommy is the most beautiful woman in the world

Ok maybe my world is small cause I’m 8
But her face lights up when she smiles
Her eyes shine
Or at least they used to
Her skin so soft and her hands so gentle
No wasted away, all skin and bones
My dad never cries but he cried today till his tears were dry
And he just sat and shook, shoulders stooped and bent
Shaking silently moaning till his strength was spent
And my sister 13 looked like she was about to burst
Burst wide open and scream and shout and vent
But when dad had nothing everybody else just kept quiet
Cause of the cancer, her skin was yellow
Her hair all gone
And now they’re trying to make her look like my mother again
By putting make up on
Whats the use of putting on lipstick and blush and eye shadow
When all she does now is lie there still not moving in that wooden box
Tomorrow we’ll bury her in the ground
Dad says we can come visit
But I think he was saying that more for himself than us
Cause moms gone now. Gone forever. Grown ups keep saying to a better place
But nobody can show me where
If I could get directions I’d ask dad to drop me off
So I could visit her there.
She looks so thin and her eyes dull
I remember sometimes holding her head
Stroking her, so she could throw up
Like she used to hold my head in the bathroom when I got sick
From flu or chicken pox or something like that
But I had to hold her, stroke her hair
That hurt the most
She’s the strongest person I know. Or she was
This isn't fair!
At first I used to brush it for her
Then bit by bit it started to fall
Then it was all gone and eyebrows and all
One time I came into her room from school
I really hate hospitals, everybody there
Wants to be somewhere else but cant leave
I like they're all dying like my mother
Little by little each day
SO I came to visit one day and opened her door
I forgot to knock and the nurse was bathing
And I walked in and screamed from shock
All she was was skin and bones
And when she turned to look at me she looked like a ghost
I couldn’t go back for days and had nightmares for nights
I cried and cried so bad my teachers even asked me to stay home
Day was a wreck and didn’t know what to do
My sister got angry and shouted at me
But she didn’t even have a clue
Have clue that I took a picture from the living room
And slept with that under my pillow in bed
But even a picture of my mom way back when
Couldn’t get that ghost picture out of my head
It got say bad my dad tried to drag me to the car the next visit
But I couldn’t get out at the hospital and he was to tired to force me
But I went back the next day, and the moment I saw her I threw myself into her arms
Cause dad had come back with a letter scribbled by her loving weak hand
It said “Nunu, you don’t have to come inside to see
don’t worry if you said I look like a ghost.
Hugs and kisses be a big girl for daddy
Remember mommy loves you most”

I have that note, and I’m looking down at it now
And I look at my mother’s body and daddy’s still shaking quietly
There’s tears stains on it.
How long have I been in here
Who cares I cant remember
I cant even remember my mommy’s voice without the pain
Except when I read the scribbled words

But like mommy said be strong for daddy
So I get up, and take the most special thing to me
In all the world, its all I have left of her being strong
I kiss, walk up to dad and it put it in his hands
And then my turn to shake while I hold him crying for very long

Thursday, September 22, 2011

When cancer wins... everyone loses.

Today I watched a devastated man kiss his wife goodbye for the last time. I watched her 13 year old daughter crushed as she covered her mother’s face to prepare it for burial. I watched her 8 year old daughter not quite know how to cope or understand what is going on. I watched her 3 year old daughter sucking her dummy and touch her mother’s face. That would be her last memory and in the years to come she would not even remember it...


A house full of people who knew and loved her. A home she had designed and furnished. Her artwork on the walls. Her dream car in the garage. Everything one could want at 36. A life completely on track. All the boxes ticked. Trip to Mecca – check. Charity work – check. Charity foundation established – check. Inspirational blog – check.

If life is a beautiful Persian rug, this would be the moment when a chunk gets ripped from it. The rug would always be breathtakingly beautiful and so terribly flawed at the same time.

We cannot ask why? No answer would come. We cannot choose our time. No one would ever leave. We cannot choose our illnesses, no one would ever be ill. We can only accept. We can only submit. In our submission we let our hearts be free from anger, from disappointment, from hurt. And in our submission we will find the courage to live. We will find the courage to hope.

Slowly the days will increase and move us from this moment when the emotions are tumultuous to a point in the future when we can refer to this memory fondly, without hurt. Where we can look back and smile instead of tear. We never really get over the ones we lose. We just learn to live with it. Like a deep scar. Like a lost limb. We adapt. That’s what we do. We bear the brunt of reality and live in hope and love and positivity. And pray that one day the sun will shine again...

Goodbye my friend, you will be missed far more than you would ever know.

For Adela Arend      -       http://survivor-journals.blogspot.com/ 

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Is technology helping us or harming us?

I remember the days of black and white TV. Of VHS video cassettes, of telephones with a circle face. I remember a life without the internet, where books were treasured and valued. Where knowledge counted for something. We used to be a little more innocent then, we used to buy our porn in a quiet corner, we used to read, actually read books from the libraries. We used to call our friends for a chat. And we never knew who was calling until we answered the telephone. We used to be so much more social. So much more caring about our fellow human being. We used to touch each other, hug each other, wish each other Happy Birthday, instead of texting, emailing, sms’ing and worst of all posting a message on their Facebook wall!


We have lost our humanity. The more cyber intelligent we become the less human we become. We are changing into cyborg, surrogate humans. Living in a virtual world. Surrounding ourselves with the knowledge of all humans as if they no longer existed and we are studying the legacy they have left behind. We are so determined and aggressive in our desire for progress, we shun and dismiss anything to the contrary. Our planet is dying. Our animals are evolving, species are lost while new ones are found. Everything around us is adapting to the changes we are creating.

We fake tan, we genetically enhance our little colourless vegetables, we breed chicken like a field of wheat, we cosmetically enhance ourselves, we engineer human flesh. When does it all end? When do we say enough? When do we cling to the days of making daisy chains in the field. It’s fading so fast into the recesses of my mind. Cloud watching, dreaming, watching aeroplanes in the sky... I feel sad, because it feels like the remnants of a bygone era. Like the notes of a song long ago forgotten...now there is only the soft humming of its tune.

Stop the waste. Stop the destruction. Stop the technological hunger that is eating away at our souls. We are making the same mistake the generations before us has made. Only now it is compounded by the size of the population and its destruction is monolithic. Where are we rushing to? Why are we racing to own the best, brightest, shiniest stuff? Where has the pride of our produce disappeared to? We used to make furniture that lasted for generations. We used to hand down family heirlooms for generations. Now we make waste in our haste. We live faster and die faster.

Make the effort to change. Feel the soil and grass under your feet. Re-cycle. Re-use. Enjoy the beauty of the world around you and not the pictures of it. Smell the air from a mountain top, from a fresh ocean breeze. Walk instead of drive. Have a conversation with a stranger. Appreciate the beauty of a flower, of an insect, of the cells of your skin. We are surrounded by miracles we are losing sight of because technology is duping us with its false promises.

Our greatest strength is our ability to adapt. Let’s use that strength to evolve into the magnificent beings we are meant to be. Where we don’t sacrifice our beauty and ourselves for the temporary bliss technology represents. There is a limit and we have reached it.

Less technology and more living!!