Sargent | Patio de los Arraybyanes in the Alhambra | 1879
My father is not guilty of self-love, so it was no great surprise when he told me he had throat cancer. I was angry, but I had to drop the word “blame” from my speech and thought.
I stressed to him at lunch that he was still in the land of the living because the words throat and cancer were never on the table. I have to interrogate him to get the truth. In fact, the doctor discussed my father’s initial esophageal biopsy, which showed Barret’s esophagus and esophageal dysplasia. That was two years ago, which is his way of dealing with life that screens him from reality only momentarily.
Only by prayer did my father call last night with good news. His more extensive biopsies of throat, lung, and upper GI came back (-) for cancer. He’s steadily been killing himself for fifty yeas, but there’s nothing wrong with him!!
Here’s the thing, the way we tell our story is indicative of how we truly see the people in our lives.
me, dad, baby Caiden Finn | 2008 | Tennessee Aquarium | Chattanooga, TN
LOVE REFLECTING
I woke up this morning
with a series of text
of a drama unfolding
in my household
I am someone who is striving
to do the next right thing
a compass point or
yellow star that I steer toward
dreams keep me moving forward
just a dull, no color feeling
sets me off on a journey
trying to fill the empty
I was deficient
in every way feasible
and anything anyone said to me I couldn’t hear
because I was full of fear
short-term solutions
nothing more substantive
than the artifacts all around
disturbances that surround
《 if I can’t manage love of self
《 then I’ll love you in my midst
《 and I’ll see the love reflecting
《 off of you, onto me
thinking a great deal
of taking time to reflect
on my underlying condition
most of them old business
I was in a big wake
with plenty of room, where other waves
didn’t matter
whatever waves I made were minimal
it’s now about well-being
so I unpack my baggage
to find out what’s inside
I picked it up and turned it out into the light
how difficult it is to truly connect
even with those who are close
in a waiting room where I’m exposed
to that kind of love
a single stem in a vase
makes an arrangement
as I approach the intersection
I expect the light to turn green
《 if I can’t manage love of self
《 then I’ll love you in my midst
《 and I’ll see the love reflecting
《 off of you, onto me
§tacyReneé§weeney
§tacyReneè§weeney 