Capela dos Ossos (Chapel of Bones)
Above the chapel door, a sign reads
“we bones, are here, waiting for yours.”
—Atlas Obscura
During your last autumn, we toured
Portugal at a slower pace, providing
time to enjoy the country and each other.
Long, lingering lunches,
views of broad vistas beyond
I sat next to you, rather than across,
taking time to bask in your glow,
as though we had forever,
you never acknowledging your dimming.
We explored historic hill towns, each with
sharp streets, each clutching its history
and its surviving inhabitants.
You marveled at an elderly woman, darkly
dressed, climbing laboriously up a steep hill
toward a black Mercedes waiting at the top.
This was a different kind of trip. Nothing fancy.
Good food, quiet hotels and streets, outdoor
art, tender walks.
You were our driver, I our guide.
Pre-recorded GPS, thick English accent
making us hoot at British road jargon.
We lodged outside the walls of Evora,
known for its Chapel of Bones.
You were mesmerized by their mass.
I hesitated before entering,
resisting your enthusiasm
and the chill of death within.
Our last stop was Sintra. Pine-
covered hills, a Moorish castle
on top, I wanted to linger there.
Shortly after Portugal, you began to fade
more quickly, taking our future with you,
leaving me to tend to my heart’s crevasse.
My husband had a 4-year journey with pancreatic cancer, and lots of severe chemo regimens, after which he would recoup and be ready to travel. This was our last amazing trip, truly a gift.
Wobbly
i
6:30 am
best yet autumn day in my yard
bright reds, fireweed oranges
tarnished yellow grasses
overdone browns, colors form
a filigree quilt on the lawn.
Each day is different
especially this one
the day I stop play
embrace a new way
treatment needed.
Each day is different
especially this day
the news still sinking in
not yet embraced
each hour I become
more of this new cancer-patient
person
unprepared
terrified.
ii
I think about my late husband
his will, years of suffering, his tenacity
I can’t go through that
can’t put on his hat
walk his walk
don’t yet know mine
always a foot-in-front-of-the-other gal
now my feet are wobbly.
iii
Almost three weeks into
my new self I’m
more informed
not necessarily ready.
Tomorrow I begin chemo.
After four years of the wait-and-watch routine for Follicular Lymphoma I had to begin treatment. I had hoped wait-and-watch would last forever. I was pretty terrified after what I witnessed my husband go through.
This post was written and submitted by Lynn Belzer. The article reflects the views of Belzer and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.
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