Cancer Like a Silence Grows

Is there anyone in the world who doesn’t know my sister is dying? It seems that even those who don’t know her must have felt the paradigm shift that happened when her body cried, “uncle” just last week after having fought and lost a three way battle for the past year and a half. The cancer so cruel and unrelenting ever pressing pain here and there, being beaten back on one front, but rounding the flank on another. And the chemotherapy fighting back, but with so much disregard for the massive collateral damage it leaves in its path. Her poor body trying desperately to hang on while the battle rages – like an inmate in a prison camp who can only hope to survive until the war is over – hoping agains all odds to still be standing when the last enemy falls. But the wrong side is winning and she can’t hold out any longer for an ally that is losing ground on every front.
And I must stand by and watch the cancer troupes come pouring in by the droves. Piling on the pain while confiscating those things that would make her last days on this earth bearable. All I can do is watch as the buildings crumble and the tanks roll in.
The fact that she can’t digest food hasn’t caused her taste for tea to wane, so we lift our cups to share and old ritual and then we pump it out through a tube.
Precious and few are the moments of lucid conversation before the next dose of pain control is absorbed through her cheek and she drifts away to a place of oblivion where she has temporary respite and I am locked outside alone, wishing I could enter her dreams so I could just be near her once again.
Loved ones brought together in tighter bond by the ropes of shared grief and loss. Tears mingle with anger and laughter and things that dull the senses for a moment. We connect in the, “I know,” and “It hurts,” and “why her?” We hold hands and cry on shoulders. We worry about each other in turns. We make room for each other by the prison bed.
In spite of the pain and tubes and the incomprehensible seeping away of life, she pats hands, comforts grieving children, offers sympathy and prayers to strangers who prattle on about their woes as if she didn’t have enough worries of her own at the moment (I want to scream at them, “Get your own sister!”). She extends her hand and whispers gratitude to those strangers who come to tend her.
And I want to be just like her. It’s the thing that doesn’t change.

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26 Responses to Cancer Like a Silence Grows

  1. ginna scott says:

    My heart aches for you & your family, and Cindy. Thank you for sharing your heart.
    Ginna (Orcutt) Scott

  2. Brenda says:

    What pain and grief this world often holds. The Lord comfort you all and bring His sweet peace.

  3. Vanesa Hyde says:

    You have captured the agony of watching a loved one ravaged by cancer so well. There is a part of me that wants to be there for a hand pat, but I would not presume to take even a moment from the time you have with her. Give her a kiss and tell her I love her.

  4. LIBBY Brown says:

    Tears swelling up in my eyes, knowing how difficult this is. Now the tears are trickling down my cheeks as if to say, I’m so sad, so very, very sad. Sisters are so special, a gift, a blessing and joy. Truly feeling your heartbreak today.

  5. Bwana Tom Jones says:

    Deanna, I am so glad I was able to visit with you a few days ago after so long. You and Cindy are two of my favorite people. I am so glad I could visits with her and your Dad last September. Our love for each other’s family goes back 50 years in West Virginia. I am crying with the Moores and. Davis family. I know God needs another Angel in heaven soon who will sing prraises with your Dad and my Nancy. God will give grace and peace to we who will be carried to heaven later.

  6. csweatman says:

    Praying for you and your family!

  7. Will J and Marie Roberts says:

    Deanna, thanks very much for sharing your blogs with us. It helps us know better how to pray for you and your family. We appreciated the article you wrote about your dad. Some time ago we shared with you that we have a beautiful mahogany coffee table in our living room that your dad made for us when you all lived in Tukuyu. It was made to the perfection that you described about your dad.
    Our hearts ache with you.
    We love you and all your family dearly. We are praying for you! LOVE, Uncle Will J and Aunt Marie

    • Ah yes! You and dad both told me the story of the coffee table within the same few weeks. So thankful to know that his handiwork is still around in this world. Thank you for your prayers!

  8. Tara Bateman Shipp says:

    So much love…it is bittersweet. If we didn’t love so intensely, it wouldn’t hurt so much to have to let her go. Praying for all of you. May you truly feel God carrying you through these dark days. You are loved!

  9. Jan (Barney) Syvertsen says:

    I went thru this with my closest friend/sister in law when she was just 54…passing just 3 weeks before her daughter’s wedding…it was cruel and hard and yet she whispered to me one day close to the end…”I can’t wait to see Jesus.” I will never forget those words. My heart breaks for you cuz the pain and loss is real and will always be there this side of heaven. Your words are beautiful and true….and I can feel your pain in your real expression of grief. You love well. I have fond memories of your sister and never want to use my last beautiful “KIli Asante” card I ordered from her in recent years…such a gift.

  10. Earl Martin says:

    Your heartrending eloquent cry of grief causes one to seek the only Source of comfort while engaging in sublime e
    Sympathy.

  11. Ruth Mosman says:

    Keep up the writing and keep expressing yourself in it. Not only is it healing but it artistically describes the experience in ways that pulls the reader into the experience and helps us not feel as far away. We cry out with you and grieve with you. May Cyndee’s pain be well controlled and may she be lucid enough to let you know she’s still with you and how much she cares about you and hear how much you care for her. May she only be surrounded by supportive people. Love, hugs and prayers.

  12. Thank you, dear Ruth.

  13. Jason Casey says:

    Deanna, I’m so moved by your words – I honestly don’t think it’s possible to capture this any better. Your raw honesty is so refreshing, so inspiring. We are with your family, holding you up, watching and waiting. And hoping.

  14. JW Riemenschneider says:

    Dear Moore and Davis family. I can only say that my heart aches for all of you. I know a little of what you are going through. I saw my Paula leave me a little at time for over a year. Her body was with me but her mind was not. Even though it was hard to give her up God answered my prayer and took her home and now she have a perfect mind. There are getting to be far more of our Mission family on the other side than there of us here. The reunion is growing and I know your Dad is standing beside our Lord Jesus to welcome Cindy home. We weep not for her but for ourselfs. May our God provide each of you with His Grace & Peace. Love Uncle Jake R.

    • Thank you, Uncle Jake. We are so thankful for our mission family. We have had to lose so many this year it doesn’t seem fair. Thank you for your love and prayers. Grace and peace to you and yours.

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