I have been meaning to do some writing
regarding feminist issues but haven't been able to get started. I
mainly intended to focus on Relational Aggression and I'm sure I will
be going there at some point. Today, I write about something else. I
received heartbreaking news, this afternoon. A woman I greatly admire
lost her battle with a nasty brain tumor last night. Ann was more
than a women's studies teacher. She was a bright light, a beacon of
truth, and a hero of mine. In January of 2010, myself and an
unsuspecting group of people I didn't know entered her classroom,
some of us to be changed for the better, forever. She emphasized
“Compassionate Awareness” as opposed to “Political Correctness”
and “Being pulled joyfully along” rather than suffering through
learning about the world's injustices.
It only took ten weeks to awaken the
sleeping feminist within and ignite a desire to “see through the
bullshit” in all things, then go out into the world, spreading her
gift of compassionate awareness while continuing to learn as much as
I can, while forming bonds with others who seek enlightenment and
change. In addition to becoming more closely acquainted with that
inner feminist, some incredible friendships were formed and together
we cried, got angry, bewildered, and most importantly, we laughed. We
learned that the political IS personal and that vigilance is to be
maintained if we are to remain sharp and aware. Between Ann's class
and Gail's English 102 class in which we were to write research
essays about topics we were passionate about, I found direction. I
found a feverish desire to keep learning so that I might continue in
the footsteps of the feminists before me. Furthermore, I found a
longing to expose and help to eliminate the evils of Relational
Aggression in women, as it only serves to hinder the fight for
equality. I emerged from that ten-week, exhausting, fulfilling and
eye-opening course feeling empowered, fearless and hungry for change.
I just needed to focus on my direction and stay on-course.
In the spring that immediately
followed, I was unexpectedly thrown from that course when George, my
baby brother, died as a result of three terrible brain tumors. So
much of that time is a blur but it wasn't long after George's death
when the sickeningly devastating news reached me that Ann, wonderful
Ann, OUR beloved Ann had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, herself.
It put a dagger in my heart and a fist in my gut. I was still reeling
from the death of my brother as well as the near-death and horrible
disfigurement of a dear friend and now THIS?
Those of us who remained in contact
from her class discussed keeping in touch with her and organizing a
visit. However, it was just too close to home and it wasn't until
just a few weeks ago that I was finally in a state that allowed me to
see her. I hitched a ride with my friend Susan and I made sure to
bring Violet along...I wanted to show Ann how her influence would
live on in the next generation. By this time, she was officially
dying and while it was so indescribably sad, I was glad to learn that
she was able to do so in the comfort of her apartment with her
partner and the people from hospice seeing to her care. It was so
much better than dying in a hospital the way George did, but then
George's decline had been too rapid to offer any other option.
She looked different. We saw her from
behind, at first...sitting at a glass dining table in her wheelchair.
We approached her slowly. I wasn't sure how badly the tumor might
have ravaged her mentally but she immediately remembered not only who
I was, but that Daryll sat in on our Saturday sessions with us. She
was paralyzed on her left side and her appearance had changed, but
she was sharp! She was still Ann! She was wheeled over to a comfy
chair and we all sat and talked. I showed her my sleeping child and
told her that I had brought her the future of the world to see. She
looked at Violet and said “That gives me hope”, and then
proceeded to apologize to her in her wonderful Philadelphia accent
for the mess we are leaving her with. It was priceless! A moment that
should have had me in tears (and did after I got home), instead had
me feeling warm and smiling. Those two hours were beyond precious to
me and while many of the visit's details are already escaping my
memory, I will always remember and smile at the last moments I shared
with one of my life's greatest mentors. Even though we all knew she
was dying, she still offered her advice for the continuation of our
academic pursuits as well as her continued assistance. “Any time”
she said and “always”. She didn't call it dying. She referred to
it as her retirement and while I can only speculate, I believe that
she intended to continue being there for us and anyone else who
needed her until her last breath. Even as she was dying, she
continued to LIVE and did it with the kind of acceptance and grace
that I hope to one day achieve. As we left Ann that day, I felt a
bizarre mixture of grief, hope, joy and sadness. Above all, however,
I felt admiration and gratitude. Even now, as I am so unbelievably
saddened by the news of her death, that same admiration and gratitude
swell within me. I will continue to learn and grow with Compassionate
Awareness and I will pass these things onto my daughter and through
these things, Ann will live on.
Thank you Ann. If I live to become half
as wise and aware as you, I may just earn my place in this world.
