Remembering Jan

[Note: Originally published in the 2009 issue of The Human Condition.]

Lonely old woman resting quietly in your bed,
Your name is Jan.
Here in a room at the San Diego Hospice, you will meet the very last moments of your life.
I pull a chair forward and extend my hand, grasping your cold, wrinkled hands.
Your body drowning in a sea of fibromas.

Let me lift you. Open those eyes my beautiful Jan. Let me lift the darkness.

“Sing me a pretty song. Comb the tangles of my hair. Soothe this dry throat of mine. Yes, lift the darkness, lift the darkness.”

Two daughters have you. Abandoned now. Do not worry; I am here for you.

As days pass you tell me of your pain.

“I am damaged.”

How my Jan?

“By Father’s hand. His strong grip, pushing me down, my face against the pillow praying that it would stop. This is my pain. Yet it is also a gift. A box full of sadness wrapped with lessons. Lessons that I now have unwrapped for you. Learn from my pain. Seek and heal it in others. I tell you because, even with this thirst, I have lived.”