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The pain of writing
By ALongLook in The Write Stuff
October 29, 2007

I promised last post to share some previous writings from when my older sister died of breast cancer. The point here is to illustrate how emotional issues -- the loss of a loved one, a breakup, etc. -- can spark creativity.

It's painful, but productive.

I won't share the complete columns here, but here is a sampling from two of them.

"...her decline was swift. I got a call early in 1993, that I better come to Tallahassee. Beth was at home and fading fast.

I went.

My precious sister was a shell of herself. Cancer had ravaged her body. Her mind remained sharp. Her sense of humor remained intact, cracking jokes from her bed. Her smile in place. Her spirit soared. "I get to see Dad again," she grinned at me. And I'm sure she did, and does.

So this month get a mammogram, or urge your mom, sister or aunt to get a mammogram. Early detection gives you a fighting chance.

Sometimes that's all you can ask for."

And this one:

"...I love my older sister tremendously, and watching her suffer as she slowly slides away to the curse of cancer is heart wrenching. I am certain the four days I spent with her are the last I'll see her...

I cried with her as she confessed how scared she was. I cried with her as we talked about missing dad, who we lost in January a year ago. I cried with her as she told me how lucky she was because she would get to see dad again.

Alone, I cried for her knowing the pain she was in as tumors on her spine cost her the use of her legs, and shot pain into her lower back.

I cried more her as she became more and more dependent on medical personnel and family members to assist her with personal hygiene.

I laughed with her as we, along with another brother, cracked jokes with each other in her hospital room. Just like old times.

I marveled at her as a patient across the hall let out a yell, and she said, "That poor guy across the hall." Or as she worried about getting a new VCR for her living room at home, so visitors would have one to watching in the living room.

My big sister is dying.

I told her I'd come see her again in a couple of months. But I won't see her again.

We knew it as we said our goodbyes. "It's going to be all right," she whispered to me as I clung to her tearfully.

Beth will be 41 on Thursday. I hope she gets that VCR."