Who I am.

I write about the landscape of grief, nature, and the wisdom of fools. The author of four books, my essays, poems, and reviews have been published in over 50 journals, including in the Huffington Post and Colorado Review. I’ve won the River Teeth Nonfiction Book Award, the Chautauqua and Literal Latte’s essay prizes, and my work has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and named a notable by Best American Essays. My account of hiking in Yosemite to deal with my wife’s death, Mountains of Light, was published by the University of Nebraska Press. http://www.markliebenow.com.

Wednesday, January 10, 2024

Dinner Table

 


Come to the dinner table where you have a place among others who have cancer or are grieving the loss of someone they love. Dine with those who are living with uncertainties and fears. They understand what you are feeling. Here you do not have to explain.

As we eat a meal together, we share our stories of being shattered and lost, the nearness of death, the dislocation that a cancer or any serious diagnosis brings. We talk about the stillness of our days and the long drift of the hours of night. 

If you are currently in the hospital and your table is a tray, take time to fellowship with the nurses and other members of the staff. Thank them for taking care of you, and share how their presence helps you endure the procedures you are there for.

Or meet with a trusted friend at a café where you can talk honestly, someone you know who will listen and ask questions that help you find your way through the trauma you are feeling. Each of us feels broken in different ways, and what we have learned from our journeys can help others.

Gather around the table where we break bread together and nourish one another. Bring your struggles and despair. Share what’s on your mind. Feel hope build as people connect heart to heart. In the sharing of ourselves with each other, in the quiet listening, we find the communion of love and the presence of grace.

We come to the table to say to each other that even in the midst of despair, there is hope. Where we are broken, there is mending. Where we are angry, there is a river of calm refection. We come together to learn how we can support each other better. We bring our compassion and courage for the challenges that lay ahead. 

We are becoming a community of survivors who understand cancer and grief, and what it means to live life vulnerable and open.


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