blue eyes
by Elouise
blue eyes pierce spring sky
join me on the river boat–
making our way home
* * * * *
Easter Morning 1949, sixty-five years ago today, Diane was born–Sister #3 with brilliant, piercing blue eyes. On February 13, 2006, Diane died after living with ALS for ten years.
The haiku was inspired by a dream I had in November 2009. From my journal:
I’m at a gathering of people. My husband is also there. Suddenly I catch sight of Diane! She’s looking alive, moving on her own (though a bit slowly), and is—as far as I can tell—acting independently of any nurses or family caretakers.
At first I see her as though I’ve just discovered one of my sisters who happens to be at this gathering, too. I’m thrilled, and want to go talk to her and take in some recreational activities with her.
A bit later I realize she ‘shouldn’t’ be here! She’s gone. She died of ALS. So why did I see her?
Crowds are milling around, pressing in very tightly, making it difficult to get to the spot where I can see and talk with her. I don’t know whether she’s seen me yet. There’s an optional boat ride later to tour the river. It seems to be the river we grew up on in Savannah.
I decide to get Diane and ride with her in the boat. We can talk and catch up and see old familiar places from a different perspective. Her presence is a gift—something that will be gone when this event comes to an end.
I’m excited and happy, eager to hear what she might say to me. I haven’t heard her voice or been able to relate to her as a fully functioning sister for years. I also don’t know how long her present embodiment will last. I wake up longing to be with her on the riverboat.
One of my tasks during therapy was to connect with each of my three sisters. We hadn’t been in close touch with each other for years. “I’m doing personal work with a therapist. Would you be willing to talk privately with me, one on one, about this work?”
Diane, Sister #3, agreed right away to talk with me. We had multiple long-distance conversations. Diane listened, confirmed, added her memories and made astute, sometimes sad observations. Then, in 1993, she flew from Texas to Georgia to witness a meeting with my parents. Diane sat on one side of me; my husband sat on the other. Silent witnesses while I broke a decades-long silence about my father’s harsh punishment.
The meeting was long and difficult. I knew it would be costly for me. It was also costly for Diane. Yet she never regretted it, as tough as it was for her to sit there silently, in sisterly solidarity.
Three years later Diane received a diagnosis of ALS. For the next 10 years she showed us all how to live and how to die with grace and dignity–without for one moment pretending everything was fine, just fine. Diane knew how to tell the truth. Even when she couldn’t speak a word.
Haiku written 11 April 2014
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 April 2014
Elouise,
A Beautiful heartfelt tribute to you and your sister Diane’s journey of navigating the relationship of sisterhood through the lifespan of childhood to adulthood. I remember being in systematic theology and watching you go through this work … Opening the door for my own journey to healing and wholeness. Blessings upon you!
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Angi, Your comment brings tears to my eyes.
Thanks so much for your expression of gratitude,
and for daring to make your own journey.
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How fitting to share this haiku and dream as we journey towards Easter. A glimpse perhaps of future encounters with her when “all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”
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Meg, Thanks for your comment and the reminder of that wonderful line and hope!
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I often read your blog. I am drawn to It think because I feel like maybe I will have insight into more conversations that I might have had with my mom if had gotten to have a relationship with her as an adult. Some of what you write about I remember parts of things she told me. Sometimes I forget what her voice sounded like because it has been so long since I have heard it. I have had some similar dreams where she is here completely able bodied and then I realize she shouldn’t be. I enjoy them anyway. She definitely had grace and dignity. Thanks for sharing.
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Erin, Thanks so much for sharing this. Yes, dreams about her are wonderful for me, too. I think they’re about her and also about me. About parts of me that I am, or am becoming or long to be. Grace and dignity. Definitely your mom–and you.
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Thank you for finding my blog which has led me to yours. This lovely haiku leads into such a very poignant dream/memory/event you retell here. I’m so sorry about your sister’s loss. Clearly she seems to be with you in your dreams as well as memories. I do believe this happens for a reason. You and Diane are connected in a way that even death cannot break. Wonderful writing.
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Thank you, Mary. I’m so happy you found these. I’m surprised at how much Diane has influenced who I am and am yet to become. It’s both comforting and challenging.
Elouise
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