Original
photograph by Tomasz Sienicki (tsca).
This work has been released into the public
domain by its author, tsca. This applies worldwide. In some countries this may not
be legally possible; if so: tsca grants anyone the right to
use this work for any purpose,
without any conditions, unless such conditions are required by law. The
original photograph can be seen at http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/57/Hospital_room_ubt.jpeg
Dear Readers,
This is not a factual account of my aunt's last days. I was not there in the end. It was Charlotte, my aunt's daughter, that came through, and was such a boon to my aunt and uncle. Thanks, Charlotte, you were such a champ. Everyone counted on you, and you did not disappoint.
This poem presented itself to me without conscious thought. I was consumed in the gravity of another loss in the family, and then I felt the whole of human existence and the weight of our wants and desires. Our desires were being so defeated in the loss of a precious family member. But want goes so much beyond that. It is a thirst that we mere mortals can't quench. Some of these wants are noble, but the majority are petty and crude--okay, well at least not noble. Man's whole existence is filled with want, with a thirst that can't be satisfied, be it desire for more life, riches, fame, or whatever. We thirst. And this is especially apropos as Oppie was denied water in the end by the hospice nurses as this was to be the end. They kept her comfortable, but she died of her thirst, just as we all die a bit each day from our thirsts.
Rick
The
Thirst
"Death of an aunt, my mother's sister, an unforgetable presence in my life."
Aye, 'tis true, the thirst for life is potent.
From her pictures and what you write, Rick, Oppie looks like a kind and beautiful woman; I hope she had the opportunity to drink long and deep of life.
On that last day when thirst unquenched, as you say, "A day of peace"
There's a kind of darkness, I suspect borne of grief, in the poem, but with the notes and pictures included this is a beautiful tribute for a person you, patently, cared for deeply.
Phil.
I read once yesterday and have returned to read for the second time today, and to also look at the photographs posted of your much loved aunt. The loss and all she meant to you, so movingly conveyed here in this fine tribute. Your first stanza a remarkable account of your emotions as you cope with the inevitable. Loss is difficult enough anyway but faced with a cruel death, and dementia and related diseases are so terribly cruel, can make the whole process almost unbearable. This write is deeply felt because I lost my own mum at the beginning of February in similar circumstances. Fortunately for me, she did know who I was until she lost consciousness over the last few days. Thank you for the link Rick, a privilege to read your work.
I love the photos. Nice touch. From this experience your Oppie moved into the next.
I always read rhyming poetry at a quicker pace - I wonder if that is because of the Australian Poetry I learnt as a kid? And somehow reading this fast takes away from the depth of the piece. I wonder if this was written in free verse how that would make the poem feel?
We are left with our thirsts - do you meditate? Equanimity will ease those thirsts certainly not easy though.
Another one of your poems with power, Rick, and like "I Am Penthos', it reflects the power of grief with the force of a lion roaring in the darkest night.
The last words my mother spoke to me before she died were "Love never goes away." I think she meant it literally, for love cannot perish, anymore than the soul can.
This delves into the psyche disturbing incomprehensible, unknown monsters of the soul of existence. And they question, by their appearance, the futility of that existence. A horribly unanswerable inquiry that is a monster in itself, and one found in chaos of understanding. Whatever happens in life, death somehow always negates - unless we can discover or calculate something beyond existence itself as we know it. Perhaps we are here to find that, it's possible - though desperately unknowable, it seems.
This piece is a fascinating exploration of that theme, and expressed with intelligent emotional candour.
Aye, 'tis true, the thirst for life is potent.
From her pictures and what you write, Rick, Oppie looks like a kind and beautiful woman; I hope she had the opportunity to drink long and deep of life.
On that last day when thirst unquenched, as you say, "A day of peace"
There's a kind of darkness, I suspect borne of grief, in the poem, but with the notes and pictures included this is a beautiful tribute for a person you, patently, cared for deeply.
Phil.
The final word of one of my favorite authors, Nikos Kazantzakis, was "water". We actually do die of thirst, but if the natural process is allowed to take place, the body really doesn't need the fluid anymore. I currently work as a care provider, often in hospice settings. I'm in awe of how the body shuts itself down allowing a peaceful exit for the inhabitant. I read this in your last verse.
So what's the most important thing to say about myself? I guess the overarching aspect of my personality is that I am a scientist, an astrophysicist to be precise. Not that I am touting science.. more..