For six minutes you belonged to eternity. Then paddles upon your chest. Twice.
You were here but not here. A stainless steel and glassed in room with whirrs, beeps, and methodical suction sounds. Your body, cold and dormant, in transition. A shell suspended in time that encased your soul, your mind. You were somewhere in a season unknown to us. We waited. We prayed for your voice and love and laugh to break through and survive.
chrysalis hangs by thread
holds life in transition within its seams
to be or not to be
It’s haibun Monday at dVerse and our beloved Toni reminds us that in Japanese culture, the aesthetic is all about change – impermanence. “Mujo. Our lives are not the same as yesterday nor will they be the same tomorrow.” Haibun: prose (not fiction) followed by a nature-related haiku. dVerse opens today at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Toni will be taking a hiatus from dVerse until November. We shall miss her dearly.
October 15, 2013: the love of my life broke through and returned to us. Thankful for every day.
lillian the home poet 
Frightening.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes it was. But joyful at the end of that wondering.
LikeLike
What a beautiful analogy. I went into congestive heart failure last year before my open heart surgery and although I do not remember, my children have told me they were there watching and waiting for me to wake.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. The watching and the waiting — and the pure joy when the loved one emerges. I am certain your children are indeed thankful for every day.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. Their vigilance in the waiting touched my heart. I am happy for you that your situation had a positive outcome. Be well.
LikeLike
Beautiful telling of your husband’s ordeal. I love the haiku about the chrysalis, the sense of waiting, of being suspended in time.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. This was obviously a turning point in our lives and this time of year, it all comes back.
LikeLike
I’m sure it does.
LikeLike
This is wonderful.. what a gripping moment of change that almost came… like a u-turn almost… chilling and warm at the same time. The haiku working as a metaphor is wonderful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Bjorn. It was indeed a u-turn in life.
LikeLike
A good “telling” of a dramatic life event, the haiku serves as a good wrap up.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
I am so pleased this had a happy ending for you. So wonderfully written and such an impact.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. I choose to celebrate on October 15th each year, rather than marking that awful day when life literally stopped.
LikeLike
That’s a very positive and strong choice to make.
LikeLike
It would be so interesting to know what may be perceived in that no-man’s land of being between two worlds. I wondered that as my father was transitioning. I’m so happy that your family got your loved one back, Lillian. Quite an experience!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many people, doctors and nurses included, have asked my husband if he “saw” anything — remembers anything. As he says, he could make a lot of money if he lied and made something up. But for him, there is no memory of the occurrence or probably about the three or four days after. His “memory” of these events, is in the telling of others.
LikeLike
What’s really interesting is that doctors and nurses are actually asking their patients those questions. I’ve read many stories of people who had died and been revived and what they experienced at that time “between” was profound and life changing. Who knows why some have no recollection of anything. Thanks for sharing, Lillian; I’m so intrigued.
LikeLike
Such an intensely written experience, and such a beautiful haiku. thank you for sharing this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Appreciate your kind words here.
LikeLike
What a moving and terrifying experience. Glad that it was a good ending for you. Love the haiku of the butterfly transformation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Grace. As October approaches, after three years, my dreams still go back to these moments — especially as I look over and see the love of my life sitting reading a paper, or cooking or doing some mundane every day thing. He is 100% cognitively himself — a miracle was wrought on October 15th. Many angels along the way.
LikeLike
I agree, this is absolutely raw and intense! I am so glad it had a happy end for you 💖
Lots of love,
Sanaa
LikeLiked by 1 person
We are truly blessed.
LikeLike
Such a beautiful piece of writing. It holds both the trauma and the beauty of change. You know the blessing each day holds!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. Truly thankful for every day.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I shudder every time I read about this. Glad all turned out well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Since I began writing poetry in Jan 2015, I’ve written of this several times – in different ways. It seems that each fall season my mind takes me back here. But I revel in October 15th and am so graterful for every day we have together.
LikeLike
This gave me the chills. So often, as we age, we are reminded of the fragility of life. You have shared this so vividly, Lillian.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Victoria. Thankful for every day.
LikeLike
I can sense your emotions in your words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a time of shock – a time of hope. So many angels along the way. Thankful for every day.
LikeLike
Thank you Lillian. The medical maze is more traumatic than the initial event.
LikeLike
Inspiring my friend Lillian.. and i will
go on to say.. baby cannot breathe..
born that way.. Charge Association..
Transposed Great Vessels of the
heart.. and DiGeorge syndrome..
the sign on the
crib just
says
Congenital
Anomalies..
and the Baby’s
name was Ryan..
to be my only Son
for 51 days.. only
pain is what came
his way.. sometimes medicine
is beneficial and sometimes you
wish it would not extend pain like it
can and will too.. anyway.. in this life
one must make the best of what comes
if they expect to honor those who never had
a chance at anything but pain at all.. So i held
this only Son.. until his last heartbeat faded
out of pain.. eyes that only wanted
love but could only feel
pain..
and sure
some folks
cannot believe
that small infants
like this can feel pain..
but if not they are blind
to grimaces and cries that
spell that misery and suffering
clear for angel empath eYes..real..
little did i know then.. thaT experience
would help me survive the worst pain
assessed in medical literature as Trigeminal
Neuralgia for 66 months from wake to sleep..
my perspective
was always
i could
feel
Love first
and lived even
one second without
constant pain of life..
a gift of an only son who
would help save my life.. only
by his suffering.. only by his suffering
sitting by his crib over 51 days seeing
and feeling
seconds of
that in what
lasted forever then..
Life IS A
gift
worth suffering for..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Katie. Such pain. I am so so sorry you’ve had to endure all of this. Life is indeed a gift.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You as well..
My FriEnd..
Lillian..
And Life
Teaches
Best
Of course..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
You gave us the reality of this terrifying experience but you also captured the mystery of the transition. I am so glad your prayers were answered.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So many angels along the way. Thankful for every day. We have a miracle in our family.
LikeLike
This reminds me of when my father was in a coma:
‘A shell suspended in time that encased your soul, your mind. You were somewhere in a season unknown to us.;
And the haiku is so beautiful, Lillian.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. My husband was put into a paralytic coma and his body temperature was lowered for 24 hours, then slowly raised back to normal and during all that time, on life support. So many prayers. So many angels along the way. Thank you for sharing your feelings here, Kim. I truly appreciate your reply.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This drove me to tears. The intensity of your words….no fiction here. The haiku was perfect. Thank you, and may your blessings continue in life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for your wonderful reply! Truly appreciated.
LikeLike
Very powerful, Lillian. Beautiful haiku!
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
This is powerful and vivid, well written!
LikeLiked by 1 person
The reality was too vivid. Thank you for your reply here.
LikeLike
Oh my goodness. I was hanging on the edge of this. So scary. And your haiku is just perfect.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thankful for every day.
LikeLike
Beautiful and touching piece.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. The waiting proved to have a positive and miraculous ending. We are truly blessed.
LikeLike
We waited. We prayed for your voice and
love and laugh to break through and survive
Having to see and to wait for the outcome can be most traumatic! A touch and go sort of situation!
Hank
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was indeed. But he returned to us and we are grateful for every day.
LikeLike
A tragic and moving piece. Thanks for sharing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome. But there is a joyful ending. He returned to us and we are forever grateful to the many angels along the way.
LikeLike
Yes, that part is eluded to in the beginning. Not all tragic moments end in a loss. What I liked most was your description of what it feels like to be waiting while your loved one hangs in the balance.
LikeLike
Wonderfully powerful! And so glad to read in comments that there is a happy ending.
LikeLike