I reread the poem for the umpteenth time, and like the first time, shortly after my second brain surgery, I teared up.
Mum came to be with me in Phoenix during the surgeries. Dad had to stay at home, across the ocean.
Throughout my hospitalization, he expressed his fears, anguish, and love through poetry. He sent me a poem a day. Each one touched me as poetry never had, bringing him closer to me.
August 10, 2007
“Life’s funny”. “Compared to what?”
The problem is we just don’t know.
What ‘selfish gene’ caused your angiomas
(Or mine, for that matter)?
Can medical miracles can protect the kids?
Months of worry and now, sun through the cloud.
But still no way to put the clock back.
What happens next? What happened then?
Wanting for it all to be over,
But knowing it really can’t be,
Still, some respite from the roller-coaster,
These endless waves of hope and fear.
Time never does march on
But only staggers from side to side,
Dragging us from one ‘event’
To the next. But what a ride!
“It’s good to be alive, as long as you survive.”