July 2008

July 2008--

My brother-in-law, Jim, was diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme stage IV. These photos were taken a day or two after surgical resection of Jim's brain tumor. In the days after this grim diagnosis, grappling with an uncertain future, my sister, Sara, and her beloved husband took respite in sleep. Day and night they retired for countless siestas, often entwined, dreaming cures. Friends brought food, or I cooked, hosting many dinner parties, their home, mine. Evenings we walked around Lake of Isles, Jim always a reveler in nature. In fact, in moving here from southern California, post painful divorce, I'd attempted to emulate my brother-in-law's attitude: Minnesota is marvelous in July, or February. Now, however, we were challenged by something greater than a late winter blizzard, something greater than we'd heretofore known. Yet, I recall July 2008 as a time of courage and fear, love and protest, joy and sorrow, these feelings so closely intermingled that even now I could not tell you precisely where or when or why one emotional state began or ended. I only recall that, as if by magic, this community appeared--arms linked together in hand-clasped walks, to receive homemade hotdishes, or hearty hugs, to dry copious tears, and then lift up to heaven heartfelt prayers.