My Healers
Sooner or later, we all need a doctor to cure what ails us. We revere the surgeon who excises a cancer, sets our bones straight again, restores sight. Rightfully so. We turn to doctors of many specialties, learned masters in the whys and ways of every specific organ, bone or tissue. They are expert in their respective crafts so that they may assuage our pain, stop the bleeding, and restore us to health.
Today I give thanks for the soul-healers. We need them as much, or more, as the medical practitioners.
I am grateful for those who came rushing to my side, the friends who offered to jump on a plane to perform triage, the kind hearts who took the time to jot down a word or two of sympathy or comfort. I’ve been surprised by some who came forward (and saddened by some who did not).
* * *
What I Learned from My Mother
By Julia Kasdorf
I learned from my mother how to love
the living, to have plenty of vases on hand
in case you have to rush to the hospital
with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants
still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars
large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole
grieving household, to cube home-canned pears
and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins
and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.
I learned to attend viewings even if I didn’t know
the deceased, to press the moist hands
of the living, to look in their eyes and offer
sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.
I learned that whatever we say means nothing,
what anyone will remember is that we came.
I learned to believe I had the power to ease
awful pains materially like an angel.
Like a doctor, I learned to create
from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once
you know how to do this, you can never refuse.
To every house you enter, you must offer
healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,
the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.
* * *
Today, and forever, I thank all the angels with the power to heal awful pain.
Today I give thanks for the soul-healers. We need them as much, or more, as the medical practitioners.
I am grateful for those who came rushing to my side, the friends who offered to jump on a plane to perform triage, the kind hearts who took the time to jot down a word or two of sympathy or comfort. I’ve been surprised by some who came forward (and saddened by some who did not).
* * *
What I Learned from My Mother
By Julia Kasdorf
I learned from my mother how to love
the living, to have plenty of vases on hand
in case you have to rush to the hospital
with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants
still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars
large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole
grieving household, to cube home-canned pears
and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins
and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.
I learned to attend viewings even if I didn’t know
the deceased, to press the moist hands
of the living, to look in their eyes and offer
sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.
I learned that whatever we say means nothing,
what anyone will remember is that we came.
I learned to believe I had the power to ease
awful pains materially like an angel.
Like a doctor, I learned to create
from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once
you know how to do this, you can never refuse.
To every house you enter, you must offer
healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,
the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.
* * *
Today, and forever, I thank all the angels with the power to heal awful pain.
* * *
posted by Jonas | 7/19/2006 09:05:00 PM
5 Comments:
How's the healing? I don't expect nor wish for you to be all right again, but I'm merely wondering how things are for you.
My prayers are still with you.
Amaris, my soul-healers have been working magic...powerful magic. There are strange and mystical stories to be told about this week...and I will tell them once I am able.
Thank you so much for your concern.
Allow me to again express my sincerest condolences. I have not yet lost either of my parents, but I know that those days will be two of my darkest.
Close your eyes, lean back and let your friends carry you to the other side of your grief.
Thank you, Dr. Rebel. My friends have been carrying me for a long, long time.
Be grateful that you have your parents. Enjoy your days in the sun together. Know that, when they die, you'll surely grieve. Know also, that when those dark days come, you'll change...you will most certainly be transformed into another version of your self.
perfect Jonas just blessedly perfect, just straight to the heart, wider than the world downright upliftingly perfect
i thank you, namaste, my friend, namaste
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