Observations influenced by Sandy Dennis
An ESUN Article
Louise Ladd recently sent me a copy of “Sandy Dennis: A Personal Memoir,” a book she and her husband, Doug Taylor, co-edited. Louise and I had been exchanging e-mail and, for whatever reason based on one of the notes, she thought that I would enjoy this book. Indeed, she was right. Sandy’s beautifully written prose, often very poetic, beckoned me from the very first pages into reading the book, which is less than 80 pages in length, without interruption. Yet, even in its brevity we can immediately sense her courage and spirit as she fell victim to ovarian cancer when only fifty-four years old.
Toward the end of her life, she wrote the following two paragraphs, which I have read and re-read,
"My mind languishes soft. It dwells on images it can see at the moment. This orange room. The long cherry table at my bedside, covered with things I find comforting. Layers of books, a peach platter that holds my medicine and water. A blue-and-white bowl filled with gentle scent and a giant pinecone Luke brought back from California. It is so large and unfamiliar I thought at first someone had made it.
"This time seems so powerful. Perhaps it is the luxury of time being here almost helpless. I see without the burden of time past or visions of the future. Piles of dirty clothes in a basket assail my eyes with such color. The bamboo blinds hanging on three windows change with every outside light, throwing patterns of slants on the bookcase. Painted sticks of sunshine and dark. My soft orange glass-shaded lamp slips me so gently into twilight and then darkness. How I love."
She is calm and serene. There is no fear or anger in her words. Her last sentence "How I love" begs for completion. It could have any number of endings based on her earlier chapters, but "How I love life" springs immediately to mind as she enjoyed the fullness of life's experiences.
Sandy's images in these two paragraphs take me to the room in our home where we were with our daughter, Liddy, during the last six weeks of her life. We were given the very special gift of having her hospice care in our home. My mind dwells on the images it recalls from those days. “This time seems so powerful.” The gift of being with her, to care for her, comfort her, stroke her, read to her, talk with her and at times “be her voice,” to help her with her beading and other projects, to play the music that calmed her and made her less anxious, to give her ice chips for her dry mouth and her dry lips, to kiss her, and to tell her how much she was loved and admired. “I see without the burden of time past or visions of the future.” So many people are not given the gift of being with their loved ones as they take their last steps on their final journey. We were truly blessed as was Sandy Dennis. “My soft orange glass-shaded lamp slips me so gently into twilight and then darkness. How I love.” As Liddy slipped away, we sensed that she knew we were there trying to help her along the way.
Like many patients with recurrent cancer, I wonder from time to time what will I die from—will it be from the disease, from old age or will it be something else that spirits me away. But, there is no time to dwell on such thoughts. There is too much to do, too many friends and family to be share the day or a good meal with, too many books to read, too many photos to take, too many poems to write and, like Liddy, there are too many bike rides to go on, too many memories to make, too much life to live. Yes, how I love.
In peace and hope,
Bruce Shriver
Editor-in-Chief, ESUN
V2N2 ESUN Copyright © 2005 Liddy Shriver Sarcoma Initiative.