Gratitude Poem

When I write the word “Gratitude”

I think recovery.

I don’t think “cancer”.

I think gratitude for him

for me, for this

     --surely not this?

We are grateful or we are not.

We say Yes! and Thank you!

All around me well-meaning

friends say,

“You can say ‘No’!”

But I say Yes

I don’t No.

Who knew…

“It’s like a relationship on steroids” I

told a friend and

then I realized

that was no metaphor.

Gratitude Poem Raymond Carver

 There has been a lot of interest in Raymond Carver  recently because of the new film, "Birdman" which is about a Broadway production of one of Carver's short stories.  Here is a beautiful poem--perfect for Thanksgiving --also from Raymond Carver near the end of his life:

 No other word will do. For that’s what it was. Gravy.


Gravy, these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving, and


being loved by a good woman. Eleven years


ago he was told he had six months to live


at the rate he was going. And he was going


nowhere but down. So he changed his ways


somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?


After that it was all gravy, every minute


of it, up to and including when he was told about,


well, some things that were breaking down and


building up inside his head. “Don’t weep for me,”


he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man.


I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone


expected. Pure Gravy. And don’t forget it.”

                                    --Raymond Carver

Gratitude Poem

When I write the word “gratitude”

I think recovery.

I don’t think “cancer”.

I think gratitude for him

for me, for this.

Surely not this?

We are grateful or we are not.

We say Yes! and Thank you.

All around me well-meaning

friends say,

“You can say "No!"

But I say Yes

I don’t No

Who knew?

“It’s like a relationship on steroids”
I told a friend

then realized

that was no

metaphor.

A Poem: Gratitude

When I write the word “Gratitude”

I think recovery.

I don’t think “cancer”.

I think gratitude for him

for me, for this

--surely not this?

We are grateful or we are not.

We say Yes! and Thank you!

All around me well-meaning

friends say,

“You can say ‘No’!”

But I say Yes

I don’t No

Who knew…

“It’s like a relationship on steroids” I

told a friend

then I realized

that was no metaphor.

Oh Christmas Tree

I am grateful for another Christmas. I am grateful for Christmas without chemo. I am grateful for Christmas with most of the family speaking to each other and even for those not speaking there is a kind of benign detachment. I am grateful that we are both well and that we can put off all medical appointments until the New Year.

Gifts are purchased. Cards written. Invitations out for our annual New Years Day party. Tomorrow I’ll work a long day of Adopt-A-Family—getting gifts to others—and with much less resentment this year—and much less drama. Incredible gratitude for that.

Friday grocery shopping for the Christmas dinner with our nearby family. Saturday church and singing carols. But tonight—oh tonight—

The Christmas tree!

Loves Long Walks on the Beach

This weekend felt like a good Hallmark card or a bad Match.com posting. A beautiful fall weekend on Cape Cod. On the drive there we laughed listening to Tina Fey “Bossypants”. Ate steamers and fried clams and blueberry pie. John did chores. I hit the jackpot at TJ Max. And we had long, long walks on the beach. Holding hands. Laughing. We saw a friend’s new house. Went to the movies. Felt so grateful for our lives. This is one of those times when it feels like the clouds parted. I feel grateful for every struggle and every minute of therapy that got us here. Not that I want to relive any of it. No, but I do love long walks on the beach

Gratitude

When I write the word “Gratitude”

I think recovery.

I don’t think “cancer”.

I think gratitude for him

for me, for this

--surely not this?

We are grateful or we are not.

We say Yes! and Thank you!

All around me well-meaning

friends say,

“You can say ‘No’!”

But I say Yes

I don’t No

Who knew…

“It’s like a relationship on steroids” I

told a friend

then realized

that was no metaphor.

Christmas Vacation

People plan. God Laughs.

Our three day trip to in Florida turned into eight. John’s Mom has no TV or internet so we blithely arrived at the Palm Beach airport to fly home on December 27th and like many were turned away. After hours and hours of airport life and long lines and my almost visceral refusal to believe that even with the storm we could not leave for five days—I finally surrendered and accepted what it was.

I began a gratitude list in the airport:

1. I had 18 hour mascara

2. I love to read magazines and the airport was full of mags I’d never read.

3. My husband was not screaming at me—a man behind us kept screaming at his wife.

4. We were not blind—a couple near us were both blind. (And they were negotiating all this hassle and being decent.)

5. I was not traveling with an infant—several families had teeny new babies.

6. I remembered to pray. (It took some work to get my thoughts to behave but I did pray)

7. We were both ok—really ok. We had family nearby so eventually we gave up and went back to John’s Mom and ate extraordinary food for five days and

8. This unexpected and unplanned week gave me a chance to get to know my new mother-in-law in ways I never could as a holiday houseguest.

Because we had planned our Christmas time with each other for December 27th—we had our own celebration on January 1st.

My favorite gift to John was a hard to find recording of Jeremy Denk playing Ives.

My favorite gift from John was the “Clapper”—the gadget that turns lights on and off with a clap of hands. Really. Now we can turn lights on and off in bed. All kinds of possibilities there.