My friend, Louise.
Gregarious, always moving, always engaged.
She strode through life like she owned it
doing good for others, singing, laughing.
Pain from a pulled muscle slowed her a bit,
but she kept hiking, bicycling,
eagle watching along the Iowa River,
until she could ignore the pain no longer.
Cancer. A word. Not a sentence in her mind.
She fought. God how she fought.
Refused to be forced over the edge.
She took everything they had
and asked for more. Bring it on!
She told me, “I’m not afraid of dying.
I just don’t want to.”
Steps slowed. Belly bloated. Scalp exposed.
But she trekked on. Reached the fringe of living.
She never acknowledged it. Would not let it win.
“My head’s freezing but doesn’t this hat look divine?”
She grabbed every filament of hope
no matter how thin. She held on for dear life.
Until one night as the household slept,
a kind ethereal spirit appeared beside her bed.
It spoke gently, words riding on the breeze
that floated in from her open window.
“It’s not like a high mountain top towering over a rough sea.
It’s simply a turn in the road.
Hold my hand and I’ll walk you there.”
And quietly, in the middle of the night, she did.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today our prompt is to consider the edges and the fringes. We may if we wish, write a poem that contains the word “edge.” Photo is of my dear friend, Louise. She died in 2018 after a 2+ year battle with ovarian cancer.
lillian the home poet 
This is heartfelt, Lillian. She sounds like a wonderful woman and an inspiration. I love the gentle ending you describe. You must miss her a lot.
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This really tugs at my heart, it sounds like she had a lot more to give… cancer is a dark journey for everyone.
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Hard to read through the tears. You must miss Louise every day. Why do the good ones have to be taken 😦
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reminded me of a freind who fought and beat cancer. her and her husband will now never have children due to the treatment. this is why you have brought a tear to my eye
thank you
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This is such a beautiful tribute, Lillian.
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I’m so very sorry for your loss. This is a beautiful tribute, and I hope that gentle ending is just how it happened.
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I have no words. I’ll bet she was looking over your shoulder as you wrote this. Truly beautiful tribute, Lillian.
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Oh Lillian, Louise sounds a wonderful, vibrant spirit. Your homage to her is tender and so loving We all hope for a kind, ethereal spirit to “walk us over”
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I’m sorry, Lillian. Cancer is simply awful. I have a dear aunt who is only in her mid-50’s and has stage four breast cancer (this is her third time fighting the beast).
I loved that line in particular.
-David
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Lillian, you made me cry — beautiful!
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Striking tribute,that’s how we know she’s rested in power
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My deepest sympathy, Lill, and thank you for sharing your friend with us. I love her tenacity, the way she ‘refused to be forced over the edge’, and her divine hat. That’s the way to go, quietly in the middle of the night.
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“A turn in the road,” … I hope so, Lillian. It’s a perfect concept.
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A brave soul, a brave life. (K)
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Such a brave soul and she had the most lovely eyes. I am sure she is smiling as she reads this Lillian!
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“Reached the fringe of living.” that struck me so sharply. We recently lost a close family friend who I’d grown up calling ‘aunt’, after two years struggling with emphysema. I could draw so many parallels between her and the image you’ve painted of your friend. It’s made me quite teary. You created such a beautiful tribute.
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A life lived vibrantly and meeting death as a gentle turn in the road…beautifully written, Lillian!
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I don’t have words adequate to describe the emotions flooding me …… beautiful words born of deep sadness. A beautiful friend / human.
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Wow, I’m hushed by this lovely tribute…I’m sorry for your loss.
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This brought tears to my eyes. Such a heartfelt, beautiful piece of writing.
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