I see inside her.
Cachexic, body eats itself,
leaves naught but bony barren mountains;
blood slows in stagnant purple rivers.
head turns then body arches
as pain plays out its awful cruel game.
And here sit I,
a useless helpless heartless mamma
wishing she would fade away.
Oh how I have called out His Name,
begged Him to take her love her take her,
gave her up in sweet surrender,
yet He seems to want her not.
How I would love to lie beside her,
cradle her in loving arms,
whisper that I will always always love her
while wishing she would gently
Shared with the good folk at dVerse OLN hosted by the lovely Grace. Cheers Grace!
In view of the kind concerned comments from Glenn and Frank (of which I thank them deeply for) I thought it right that I should add this note.
I wrote these words late last year after having been directed to a Facebook page in which a very caring father made the decision to publish a photograph of his four year old daughter who was in the last stage of cancer.
The photograph is very harrowing and haunted me for a long time. It is true that opening up the page again (as I have not long done) has left me emotionally shattered and I have cried again. However I am fully behind his brave decision, as we who have never been in this awful situation view childhood cancers as in the images that we normally see, of smiling bald little children with teddies and balloons and we are comfortable with that. But the reality is far removed from that of happy little smiling faces.
Seeing Jessica’s picture last year reminded me of watching my dad die of cancer many moons ago, and the words I wrote are of him too and how helpless I felt at the time. He was diagnosed three weeks before his death. As any loving daughter would be, initially I was praying for him to live to be cured, but not long after, oh how hard and oh how often I prayed for him to die, to be relieved from the torment of his unstoppable pain.
I cannot even come close to imagining how I would feel if I had had to watch my child die.
It is essential that more money is poured into the research of childhood cancer.
Writing this has left me torn as to whether I should direct you to the page, but it is so that Jessica’s dad wanted the world to know the reality, the awful truth of childhood cancers. I would suggest however that if you are emotionally fragile at present, that you do not open it. It is here.
Peace dear little Jessica.
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Artist: Edvard Munch (1863–1944)