My brother Michael is dying of Pancreatic Cancer. He is 60 years old. Last year, my younger sister had a radical mastectomy following her diagnosis of breast cancer. Another sister has had early stage cervical cancer. The statistics of Cancer are very real in my family of six siblings.
In 2002, I wrote:
“There are chilling numbers in the “2002 Canadian Cancer Statistics” booklet produced by the Canadian Cancer Society. In it we learn that Canadian men face a 1 in 2.4 chance of developing Cancer in their lifetime. Women have a 1 in 2.7 chance of the same. This means that more than one out of three people have or will have Cancer. Look at any group of people – your family, children in a playground, happy diners in a restaurant. More than one in three people will be in active battle with this rampant disease. We are all a part of the cure. Our intelligent attention is just the beginning.”
- published in “The Revue, a Vancouver West Side community newspaper, November, 2002″
There are many good-byes and many ways of saying good-bye. I wrote this poem for my brother and got to read it to him over the phone. He is in Ontario, lucid, in pain; far in distance, close in my heart. We paused often as we spoke together; to expand the memories, to weep, to laugh.
If you have a chance to see the movie (or rent the video) “Barbarian Invasion” grab the opportunity. It is an excellent French Canadian film exploring the precepts of family and letting go.
I hope Michael would enjoy my sharing of this letter with you. It’s no longer appropriate to ask his opinion on this kind of detail. He is a big hearted, gruff fellow that would look askance at all the fuss though.
A toast to Mike!!!
Sunday, May 2, 2004
Dearest Michael
This letter will be my good-bye to you. I am not going to travel over in person to say my good-byes, although my arms ache to hold you one more time, brother dear. And I’m so glad the family is there holding you and saying good-bye. Feel my love and my spirit surround you though. That part of me is with you every moment. You have a hard thing to do. I think dying is a lot like being pregnant. All you can do is wait for everything to be in place, and then – bingo! – life happens. Death is stepping into new life, and you won’t feel any more ready than a new-born baby ever does. That seems to be one of the mysteries. I hear you recently spent time on the maternity ward, for drainage issues. Isn’t life a joke.
I want to share with you how I will remember you.
How you are woven into the deepest parts of me.
Michael Dear,
I Will Remember
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I remember you in so many ways
Now and for always
I remember Cool You, teen you
All slicked hair, and open shirt collar
And smirking grin.
I hero worshipped you a little
As younger sisters often do
When I wasn’t just plain irritated.
Remember? Sometimes you thought
Sisters were put on earth for tormenting.
We played cards
And put in time together
And we waited for the big adventure
That getting older, getting out
Was going to be.
I remember you in uniform
Oh, yeah!
Past cool and into bliss.
Right off the charts!
So together
So grown up
So far away on the East Coast.
Living mysteries that a
Naive teenage girl
Could only guess at.
But guess I did . . .
All the time!
And your Bike!
Will I ever see a motorcycle
And not remember you?
Is that possible?
I remember sitting
At the front entrance
Of the student nurses residence
And you roar up in grins
And wicked glamour
Making thrills and chills ripple
Through all my girlfriends
On those long ago steps
Oh yeah!
Hormones and hope.
I was a queen riding behind you
A scared queen
Who could never figure out which way
To lean into the curves
But a queen never-the-less.
I’ll remember you whenever I see
A dress uniform of black “T” and jeans
Or red suspenders over a round belly
Or a willing Santa, thrilling children
Ho Ho Ho
In woodworking and koi fish
Gardens and snowfalls
Mystery books
And a thousand ways I don’t realise yet
I will remember you
I promise
And some quiet evening
I’ll be sure to remember you
As I have one more toke
Over the line.
Even though I no longer
Smoke the wicked weed
I’ll have a little dragon’s breath
To clear my eyeballs
And loosen heart tears
Brother dear
And when I see grumpy old men
Sitting in the background of where-ever
I will remember you
And wish you were grumping us again too.
When I’m scared inside
I will remember your courage.
When I think Life is too hard
People don’t change
Why bother?
I will remember you
And how you changed your destiny
One powerful and often slow
Pain filled step at a time
All heroes get to rest
I will remember that
When I am mad that you are gone
And gone is also here
In my heart
And I will remember that too . . .
If I want to chat with you
When you’re busy
Doing wheelies in the clouds.
Do watch out for all those
Harp player guys though.
There’s amateurs everywhere!
You know that
There will always be a place held
For you Michael dear
At every family gathering
There always was
There always will be
Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye
Till we meet again
My good guy, my bad guy
My buddy
My ghost rider in the sky
All my love, Mike
Barbara
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# May 31: Michael Maloney died today. May he rest in peace. #
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