Jewels of Light

Many people have asked me over the last six years how I could keep going on with all the pain and loss I have experienced. I could only tell them that there is no other choice but to keep on keeping on. I do what I can, swimming against the relentless tide. As things have settled down, and I have found a place of balance and peace, I look back. I try to see how I did it. How did I manage to get through day after day? It wasn't without tears, frustration, anger or overwhelming sadness. But it was also with many moments of joy, love and light.

When my brother Mike got sick, I knew he was going to be taken from us. I just knew it inside. I cried in the shower so no one would see me. I put on a calm face outwardly and did what needed to be done, what Mike asked me to do. Mike gave me a job, the job of making things happen and bearing witness to his illness. I was the messenger of goings on, and the bearer of bad news. I was the supplicant asking for prayers. I did not think of how I could do it. I just did it. I kept breathing and tried to remain focused on my only prayer which was that he would beat his cancer.

I saw jewels of light within the dark corners of that experience. The friends that Mike didn't know he had rallied by his side. They brought us food, money, cards, and laughter. When Mike finally understood how many friends he had he was overwhelmed. We both saw the sparkle of light in these friendships. Mike had a great view from his hospital room. We watched many sunrises over the Atlantic Ocean and the intra-coastal waterway, holding coffee from Starbucks and french crullers from Dunkin Donuts. Quietly we sang praises for another day.

When my mom was diagnosed with liver cancer three months after Mike died, I was numb. How could this be happening again, I thought. But with a great sigh, I steadied myself for another roll in the surf. My mother's illness was not as acute as Mike's, so there was not the urgency to gather and cling to what we had together. I stayed in Florida while she stayed in Winston-Salem. I asked for more prayers for her and continued to breathe daily and focus on the jewels of light in this situation.

My mother and I grew closer when Mike died. She saw how I took care of him. She saw and felt the unconditional love I found for them both. She once told me she marveled at how she had seen me transform from a selfish young woman to a giving helper and healer. This recognition by my mother was another jewel of light. Even though I did not expect or want praise for taking care of matters, my childish need for a parent's approval was sated. And with this approval and affirmation I began to see the changes within myself.

Continued contact with my niece Jenna kept me going. That she managed to get through school, get married and move on was joyful. I loved watching her find her way to womanhood. She was a jewel of light in my life, and seeing her dance with her new husband was seeing her right where she belonged. My mother's illness had become untreatable by the time my niece was to be married. Mom set a goal to be present at her wedding. She made that goal for sure and was beautiful, another jewel of light.

When I moved to Winston-Salem, under great stress, to continue school, I found opportunities to be with my Mom regularly. We shared stories, mostly hers. I took time to take in her presence, which no doubt was formidable even as she got weaker. Friends gathered to help when she was very sick and on her way. That I could only ask and have people willing to help was beautiful. Dear friends of mine as well as Mom's friends all pitched in to make sure I could stay in school. My class mates helped me even though they barely knew me. These were blessings I did not fully understand until a year later.

Somehow I managed to get through school and pass my boards. Each day I looked for the positive moments that I could carry with me. At home alone, I would sometimes weep for my lost ones and sometimes I would laugh at the absurd memories.

Now, a year after finishing school and becoming a nurse, each day at work is challenging. I learn something new all the time. That is very special. I have found opportunities to share my experiences with my patients and their families. It is a comfort to them that they are not alone. I have found words to help them look for the jewels of light in the dark corners of their experience. When I connect with them I know that all the pain and suffering I have experienced has not been in vain: another jewel of light that fills me with joy. This keeps me going.


A jewel: Some of the cyclists that gathered to raise money for Mike January 29, 2006.