HUMP Day Haiku
March, twenty-one years ago,
my Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.
It had already metastasized to his bones.
I remember the shock and denial that I felt.
It was like being told the sturdiest tree in the forest
was going to fall in a storm.
Following this recently-written haiku
is a poem I wrote in 1997, five years after his death.
The poem is about the last week of his life.
Looking back, I liken those seven days to
one of God’s “severe mercies.”
That’s my Dad and me in the photo.
diagnosis grim
family responds with tears
each moment measured
___________________________________________
The title for this poem came from
the annual NCAA basketball tournament,
commonly known as March Madness.
My thought was that they had no idea what
madness in March was all about.
“March madness”
1992
coffee-colored stain on sheet
Dad!
why won't you answer me?
I'm calling 9-1-1
something's wrong
he’s wheeled out on a stretcher to the ambulance
my God!
is this his last chance to be at home?
Mom looks so alone
I'll take care of the phone calls that need to be made
you go with Mom, John
don't be afraid
tests show a tumor
on his brain
doctors will put in a shunt
so it will drain the fluid that keeps him from
answering our words
God, can you hear me?
this is absurd
my Dad's going to live
he's not going to die!
Jim, please be brave
so I won't cry
one week has gone
the room is filled with
morning sun
cards wishing well
line up along the windowsill
tomorrow will be spring
what hope will it bring?
this room has become a familiar place
I see hope on no one's face
me and Mom,
Jim and John,
alone with Dad
Mom looks so sad
we wait by his side
knowing there's no place to hide
from the certainty of death
another breath
good, Dad
breathe out
breathe in
don't let cancer win
not today
spring is on its way
Dad's lips look dry
softly
I touch them with a moistened swab
breathe in, Dad!
his lungs finally fill
I go to stand by the windowsill
then...
the man in the bed
makes no more sound
the silence is suddenly drowned by
my mother's cry
"PATRICK!"
but he can't hear her
call to him
she and I
and John and Jim
know that
quietly
without a fuss
he left us
tears dampen shoulders
and the sheets
for him now gone
and us
we
weep
minutes pass
I find his nurse
"please come” I say
no need to hurry
both Dad
and
winter
died today
In memory of Patrick Warren Campbell
July 20, 1922 to March 19, 1992
