…my daughter, my beautiful, loving daughter who loved all so beautifully, was dealt what this world deems a horrific blow. She died at 26 from a brutal form of cancer, and the world I had known was destroyed.
I was intent on writing a book upon her death, the title quickly forming in my mind - Fuck You God! And I am not sure there would have been enough exclamation points in the entire world to have assuaged my anger…
Had I the wherewithal to allow past pains to simply ‘be’, to sit with them and accept that they were here to teach me, to give them over to the Love that holds us all, perhaps I would not have been contagious…
Can we see our child differently? Is it possible? And can this, if possible, help us to see others differently? And perhaps change our worlds for the better?
Dr. Demarius Woodson was working the ungodly 36-hour emergency room shift at St. Thomas Hospital. His team was gettin’ her done as Demarius liked to say, swiftly but efficiently dealing with the gunshot wounds, cardiac arrests, stabbings, and sundry other emergency situations that filtered in throughout that particular Friday afternoon and evening…
My pain is real. My pain is deep. No one else knows my pain. I get no real benefit from telling you or anyone else how unbearable my pain has been and can be. Yet I sometimes do it anyway.
…my daughter, my beautiful, loving daughter who loved all so beautifully, was dealt what this world deems a horrific blow. She died at 26 from a brutal form of cancer, and the world I had known was destroyed.
I was intent on writing a book upon her death, the title quickly forming in my mind - Fuck You God! And I am not sure there would have been enough exclamation points in the entire world to have assuaged my anger…