Posts Tagged With: glioblastoma

Day 2494: Sometimes life sucks

Sometimes life sucks, like when you lose an old friend to a terrible brain cancer that has killed another friend of yours.

Sometimes you see a card that perfectly captures your experience.

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Sometimes you listen to the same damn song over and over again to comfort yourself, like when you’re driving to say goodbye to an old friend.

 

Hajanga

by Jacob Collier

Everybody, near and far
Come together as you are
To the ocean, to the sky
Sing that cosmic lullaby
Sing the hajanga

Sing your pleasure sing your pain
Like you’ll never sing again
Let it echo, loud and clear
Across the ancient stratosphere
Even when the sun refuse to shine
There’s a song of love that never dies

Even when the good days pass you by
Lift your voices to the sky singin’
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…

As the words go round and round
Let the tears roll down and down
Sing the way you wish to be
Let that singing set you free

Even when those dark clouds bring you down
There’s a spark of joy that can be found
Even when things break and fall apart
Lift your hands up from your heart, singing
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…

Said every morning
Every night
Through the darkness
To the light
Like a beacon
Shining bright
Sing the hajanga you’ll be alright

From the winter
Comes the spring
It don’t matter
What life will bring
You can do most anything
So give your hajanga
A song to sing

So tell your mama
Tell your pa
Sing it near and sing it far
Be exactly the way you are
See the hajanga
It’s your guiding star

To every woman
To every man
In every nation
In every land
I said please you’ve gotta understand
Now sing the hajanga
And take my hand, sing it!

Then one day your life is through
Nothing more that you can do
So give away the things you know
And tell your friends you love them so
Tell them hajanga

I let the tears roll down and down, yesterday, as I told Tony‘s friends and family that I loved him so.

Sometimes life sucks and we CAN do a damn thing about it, like telling people we love them so.

Here are all my other damn photos from yesterday:

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Sometimes life sucks and we can feel and express gratitude for what we still have, like this blog and YOU.

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Categories: in memoriam, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Day 1992: Michelle

Yesterday, my good friend Michelle passed away.

Last month, I wrote and shared this limerick with Michelle:

A wonderful person Michelle,

Treats all whom she meets very well.

I’m consistently crying

’cause I know that she’s dying

Though I know she’s not going to Hell.

Michelle smiled and said, “Maybe I am going to Hell.”  I replied, “With everything I know about you and Hell, there’s no way you’re going there.”

I don’t know where Michelle went yesterday but I do know she’s no longer here where I and many others have known and loved her for so long.

Michelle’s husband Joe wrote yesterday about how she had spent her last day on this earth. He told us she heard her favorite Irish blessing.

“May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields and, until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.”

He wrote that she felt held and that she died at home at peace with grace and dignity. He signed his email to us “With profound sadness.”

With profound sadness, here are all the photos captured on my iPhone yesterday.

 

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Many years ago, when I was in the hospital recovering from a heart-related illness, Michelle loaned me her DVD of “Rent.”  Today, I include this song from that musical in honor of her.

Thank you, Michelle, for all the seasons of love.  And thanks to all of you for visiting here, now.

Categories: in memoriam, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 43 Comments

Day 1730: It’s not that you’re leaving. It’s that you stayed.

Yesterday, I stayed at my computer to read this transcript of Lesley Stahl’s  interview with U.S. Senator John McCain.

This exchange — about his having the same kind of brain cancer a dear friend of mind is currently battling —  will not be leaving me any time soon:

Lesley Stahl: Do you think that this diagnosis has changed you?

John McCain: No.

Lesley Stahl: Not at all. Same person?

John McCain: No, I think you gotta– you know, you just have to understand that it’s not that you’re leaving. It’s that you– that you stayed.

Yesterday,  I was talking to another dear friend, Megan, who works with me and will be leaving the job soon because of a long commute and family obligations. Megan and I have been focusing on her leaving with tears and sadness.  When I said to her, yesterday, “It’s not that you’re leaving.  It’s that you stayed,” we both felt better.

It’s not that you’re leaving this post at the end, it’s that you stayed to read my words and look at my photographs.

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That’s Megan’s office door, and I’m already imagining what it’s going to be like when she closes that door for the last time, in three weeks,  when she leaves. It helps me to remember that it’s not that she’s leaving; it’s that she stayed.

It’s not that I left Merrily We Roll Along at the end of the performance on Saturday.  It’s that I stayed to hear “Opening Doors.”

 

Thanks to you all, for staying.

 

 

 

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

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