Saturday, August 15, 2009

cold shoulder

Grey microscopes line the walls, peering in at high top desks ringed by students chatting about this and that. Cold metal braces scrape along the linoleum, with each step the teacher takes matching the wet pop of the black rubber end of his cane. A solitary rose rests innocent, ready for his smile and sterile tongs to lithely slide it down the throat of the burnished steel container labeled liquid nitrogen. Glistening, the hammer leaves its pretty petals shattered into a million tiny pieces...

Roses should not shatter...

Wind howled past our exposed pink ears into the dark recesses between the trees, our train of sleds slipping quickly through the trough of packed snow toward the base of the hill. Screaming through the end of the track, the world gave way beneath us leaving twisted pretzels of bodies and sleds amid the joyful laughter. Pulling ourselves to our feet for another round, a blossoming crimson shadow on the glittery pristine snow causes the world to shatter...

Daddy's should not bleed...

Cancer became real, more than words read by newscasters on the evening news, as layers of warm sticky clothes were peeled from my dad's shoulder. Hidden the spot had grown bulbous until found by an errant foot during the crash of sleds, ripped clean it bled now exposed for the world to see...

We are not invulnerable...

...so why do we pretend to be?

32 comments:

Daniel said...

Touching post here Brian. Lots to think about and accept.

Pattee said...

Wow....
I was reading this post ... and wasn't prepared for the ending... and I hope it's not an ending.... for your dad.

You are a wonderful writer... and you'd be welcome in my gypsy caravan anytime... I'm sure we could find things to talk about.

Life is so fragile and I think we forget about it...
We are vulnerable bodies....

It's hard to accept change in our lives esp. around sickness and death...

I'm so glad you posted on my blog.
Pattee

Susanne49 said...

I love your writing style,the story is very touching!

Thank you so much for your kind comment on my blog. Do you've found a house in Palm Bay? :)
Susanne

Sue's Daily Photography

Brian Miller said...

@daniel - smiles. hope your weekend is going well.

@patee - thanks for the warm regards...dad is doing good...82 places cut off so far...crazy...we are fragile. it seems to have come up with me a few times this week.

@suzanne - ty. not yet...hopefuly over the next couple weeks.

Mitr - Friend said...

Hey Brian,
Drop into my blog (click here) to collect your special gift... Congrats dear... :)
My Travelogue

only a movie said...

Those last 2 lines hit home for me this weekend.
Hope your dad is doing ok.

An Open Heart said...

Wow...wow...you really know how to evoke emotion....your prose kill me everytime....prayers for Dad....
;o)
S

Goofball said...

I wish your dad all the best!!!!!!

Valerie said...

I'm offering prayers for your Dad, Brian. You're right, Daddy's shouldn't bleed.

Wings said...

Hoping for the best for you and your family. Take care!

Lorraine said...

I feel that, I've lived it. And I know without a shadow of a doubt, that the soul is immortal. I know now that, we never die, nothing can hurt our soul. We forget because we have to. I feel for you and your dad!

Lorraine said...

I feel that, I've lived it. And I know without a shadow of a doubt, that the soul is immortal. I know now that, we never die, nothing can hurt our soul. We forget because we have to. I feel for you and your dad!

otin said...

Funny how sometimes one bad thing that happens will allow you to discover another bad thing in time to take care of it, funny how life works. I hope everything is ok.

Ocean Girl said...

I pray for the best for you and your family Brian.

Betsy said...

Many people I know that have been diagnosed with cancer, discovered there was a problem... not in a doctor's office,but doing some ordinary thing in life...like sledding. Prayers for your dad...hope the treatments work!

♥ Braja said...

The folly of the conditioned mind.....

TechnoBabe said...

I too like your style of writing. Your depth is enticing to the reader.
Please give your dad a hug for me.

A.Decker said...

We're only here for a minute.

I like the way you seem to be, in your writing, trying to appreciate, examine, question, bring to the light of conscious awareness, every precious, all-too-quickly-passing moment.

This offering is no exception. Thought provoking, good work.

Jen of A2eatwrite said...

It sounds like your father has been battling this a long time. I hope that the battle continues to go his way. I'm sorry he and those who love him are going through this.

Poetikat said...

Your father is in my prayers. A heartfelt entry in your catalogue of stellar work.

Kat

Baino said...

We are indeed fragile whether we accept it or not. I hope your father is OK or was this some time ago?

Ronda Laveen said...

Our amazing bodies have so many secrets hidden within...some good, some not so.

The Retired One said...

I lost my mom a few years ago from cancer. She came to our new home, where we cleared our master bedroom out and moved her and all of the things one can gather from a lifetime of 80 years into that room. We held vigil over her last two weeks, holding her hand. She refused to eat at the end, knowing she would hasten her death. I think in her mind, she did not want to be a burden, even though we told her several times that was not ever, ever the way we felt.
The death of a parent and being there for their vulnerable last days is a life changing event for a child, regardless of that child's age. They are supposed to be the strong ones, holding us and rocking us and soothing us....instead of us lightly rubbing their veined hands.
But as a parent myself, we would have it no other way.
Much love and strength is being sent to you to bare the inevitable coming for your Dad and you.

Marianna said...

So true...I have yet to figure out why is it that we start enjoying life's moments when something bad happens to us or around us. However the enjoyment doesn't last long...pretty soon we go back to feeling exactly what you said...we go back to invulnerability.

Have a great week Brian!
Take care
xoxo

subtorp77 said...

Brian, I learned way to early that I wasn't invunerable, so this hits home...hard. And to what Baino asked; if this was a while back or something more recent? Either way, sending out some healing vibes...

lakeviewer said...

Oh, this is a hard story to take in. Life is so fragile.

Brian Miller said...

@lakeviewer - yes, it is. both fragile and a hard story...

@subby - i was small enought to be riding on his back when we went into the ditch. since then he has had 82 places removed and is about to go back in for more...thanks for the email...


@marianna - or why we wait until late in life to actually enjoy it...me too.

@retired one - hopefilly that is years away, but the thing is yuou never know. T lost her mom 18 months ago. love now, love often...because there will come a day...

@ronda - too true. (grin)

@baino - it is indesciminate...see my response to subby...happened when i was a kid...dad is well...the curse of too much sun growing up...

@poetikat - smiles.

@jen - if i had everyone comment whose life has been impacted by cancer...i imagine this would be my longest post...an unfortunate reality. ty.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

You have an uncanny ability to touch one's very heart with just a few words. I hope all is well with you and yours.....

Tom said...

...how else could we get through the day? When wlll the time come when our lives are turned upside down? Soon enough! Great writing.

Hit 40 said...

I like Daniel's comment. To think about and to accept is very hard.

I will keep your dad in my thoughts and prayers.

Colette Amelia said...

indeed...

Stacy (the Random Cool Chick) said...

Incredibly thought provoking - glad your dad is OK, and hope he remains so. Life is short...I agree, we are not invulnerable.