SILENT TEARS

I knew one day I would write a poem titled, “Silent Tears.” I knew it would be a special time about special people. This is that poem.

39 year old “Jennie” suffered from brain cancer. She was diagnosed eight months ago. These past eight months have been hard on the family. Jennie was working full time while her husband of fifteen years, “Mark” stayed home to care for their eleven year old son, “Jimmy”.

I met Jennie and her family three months ago when she came onto hospice. One cannot help but notice the love this family had for each other. Mark would look at Jennie with so much love in his eyes. Both Mark and Jennie’s first concern was their son. They wanted to make sure Jimmy got the support he needed.

Jennie was bed bound and needed help with all of her needs. Mark was a wonderful caregiver and gave Jennie the emotional and physical support she needed. Jennie was declining with increasing needs and struggling with word finding.

Mark knew she was declining, but would remain stoic, except for the time when I was meeting with Jimmy. Mark would come out to the living room where Jimmy and I were talking, and sit with us for a while. It was then that Mark would show silent tears. He wanted his son to know that it was okay for a man to cry. When Jimmy and my discussions were on his mother’s illness, he too, would shed silent tears, wiping them with his tee shirt.

Five days before she died, Jennie was admitted to the hospital for uncontrollable seizures. Mark asked me to come to the hospital to meet with Jimmy. Mark, Jimmy and I met in the hospital chapel. We moved our chairs to sit knee to knee. Jimmy knew his mother was dying and didn’t say much, but these silent tears were streaming down his face.

I had planned on returning to the hospital the next day, but Mark called and asked if I could meet Jimmy at their home. He said things were getting close and he felt it was best if Jimmy wasn’t there to witness his mother’s dying. Jimmy was home with his grandmother and cousin.

Mark knew that I planned on arriving at the house at four that afternoon. Somehow the timing of Jennie’s death was orchestrated by her as her son had always been she and Mark’s primary focus. I believe Jennie wanted to make sure her son had support.


　
SILENT TEARS

　

My heart is aching.
There’s heaviness within.
Telling an eleven year old boy
his mother has just died.

I have been meeting with him for weeks;
sometimes with sadness and silent tears.
Offering support and guidance.
Letting him know he was never alone.

She took a dramatic turn last weekend.
Seizures out of control.
Calling 911 to get some quick help
as no longer able to keep her at home.

I visited them all in the hospital yesterday.
Family holding vigil in her room.
Holding her hand, loving her.
Doing what they needed to do.

We went off and talked together.
Sitting knee to knee.
Silent tears flowing down
moistening a little boys sad face.

His father asked me to come again.
To meet his son in their home.
Forty minutes into the visit, we heard.
She died the exact moment
I walked through her front door.

Silent tears.