A Plea for Help
I know this is a literature blog. My usual posts are book reviews, or poetry, or life from a literary perspective.
Well I don’t know how to make this one literary. Not yet. Right now, all it can be is painful. Long story short, my father-in-law is dying of cancer. He was diagnosed with Stage IV Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma in December, and a few days ago my husband’s mother told us that while it hasn’t been comfirmed by the doctor, she doesn’t think he’s got a lot of time left.
I know the cliche is that we should be able to turn our pain into poetry. I’ve tried to do that, I really have, but something a lot of non-artists need to realize is that that isn’t always how art functions and right now it’s just not something that can happen. Maybe one day it will, when I’ve had time to distance myself from what’s happening enough to care what the words I’m saying about it sound like. But right now words aren’t adequate. Words can’t be as big as the fear and the worry and the pain and the waiting, the awful fucking waiting. It’s hard. And if it’s hard for me, I can only imagine what my husband is going through.
This isn’t a post about the merits or lack thereof of the idea of turning pain into poetry–and, at present, that feels like little more than an idea to me. Maybe another post one day will be about that, again, when I’ve removed myself from how much my husband and I, our new barely forming family, are hurting about the family he came from.
This is a post wherein I ask for help.
I realize this is not a blog with a large following. I have, what, twenty followers? But it’s worth a shot. My husband’s family lives a good 18-hour drive away from us. Despite both of us working full-time, we do not have the money to visit them right now. But it is very, very important that we be able to visit my husband’s family in the next couple months. We’re so, so scared that if we don’t, the next visit we make will be for his funeral–if we can even make that. We don’t know how much time he has left. Maybe more than his family thinks. But we don’t want to risk not getting to see him again.
I’ve set up a GoFundMe to see if we can get a little bit of help with organizing a visit. It feels selfish and childish, but right now, I feel selfish and childish, and very, very scared. I know a lot of people think begging for money from strangers is the lazy way, or it’s taking advantage of people. I hope that’s not true. I don’t see myself as a lazy or manipulative person. But if there are strangers out there who would be willing to help, it would mean the world to me.