The Last Birthday
By Linda M. Duncum
I
n September 2011 I was diagnosed
with intrahepatic cholangio carci-
noma, a fancy name for common
bile duct cancer, a very rare and nor-
mally a quick killing cancer. But after
several rounds of chemo, surgery and
radiation the doctors were able to keep
things at bay and I was able to enjoy an
eight-month respite. In March of this
year the cancer started misbehaving
again and they wanted to put me back
on chemo. They kept telling me there
were no guarantees but I decided to
give it another go. Well, this went bad;
I had only one round and I ended up
back in the hospital and sick for the
entire month. After talking things out
with my daughter I made the hard
decision: quality over quantity, and I
stopped treatments. I wanted to spend
whatever time I had left taking care of
my animals and visiting with family
and friends.
I wanted to go back to New
England for a birthday in the place
where I was born. To go on a spiritu-
al quest, to write just one more poem
and to spend some time alone with
God. After spending part of my birth-
day trip with my friends in
Connecticut I wanted to spend the rest
with my brothers and sister in North
Carolina. Coming from a long line of
railroad people, I decided to treat
myself by getting a roomette and tak-
ing AMTRAK down to North
Carolina.
So armed with a piece of birthday
cake and some reading material, I
caught the train in Bridgeport and
connected with the Silver Star at Penn
Station in New York. The crew, not
knowing how sick I was and not know-
ing my purpose for taking this trip,
treated me like a queen anyway. I was
tucked into my room and the train
started southward.
Because of my illness I have to eat
frequent small meals, and my good
friend Terry loaded me up with food
for the trip. Unfortunately I didn’t feel
like eating. Not wanting to waste a
good piece of cake, I went to find the
steward who had tucked me into to my
small room. I found Cameron munch-
ing on his lunch at the rear of the car.
Taking out my piece of cake, I asked
him if he wouldn’t mind sharing my
last, last piece of birthday cake. A
shocked and concerned look came
across his face. Taking my cake, he
asked me to sit down and join him, but
I was getting tired and wanted to head
back to my room. I finally gave him
the Reader’s Digest version of the rea-
son for my trip. Tears were now flow-
ing from this young man’s eyes. He
then told me that he would be honored
to share this cake with me, smiling
while telling me that chocolate was his
favorite.
I made it back to my room, and
while looking out over the passing
landscape my eyes closed and once
again I was alone with my thoughts. A
few hours later, Cameron came by
with the conductor. They wanted me
to talk about my trip and my life, but I
was too tired to get into it. Cameron
then told me that his mother died from
cancer, and that he was still working
on dealing with his grief but that his
love of the theater helped him get over
some of the rough parts. I talked to
them briefly about my life as a nurse,
but seeing how tired I was becoming
they left me alone to rest.
Supper time came around, and I
made my way out to the dining car. I
met a young girl from North Carolina
and we spent a nice few hours eating
and watching the world go by.
Suddenly my dinner partner looked up
and started to smile. I turned around
to see Cameron, the conductor, some
of the other stewards and kitchen staff.
With big smiles on their faces, they
started singing “Happy Birthday.”
Now tears were rolling down my face.
When they finished they all gave me
hugs, and thanked me for all that I
have done with my life, and thanked
me for sharing my last birthday with
them. This is truly a trip that I will
never forget. With Cameron’s encour-
agement I finished my “last poem:” water of a single peaceful pond reflects
sacred images as seen only by our
God’s eyes. The water sits as silent as
a single soldier’s grave. As morning
arises the sound of a loon breaks
through the morning mist; which has
gathered along its edges.
Walden (The Last Poem) As I now look back at my life, I have
been truly blessed by the people who
have crossed my path and helped me
in my lessons along my earth walk. I
have been blessed by the opportunity
of living in my beautiful mountains, as
well as being truly humbled. I will
walk home to God, knowing that I
have been the best Daughter, Mother,
Wife, Grandmother, Army Vet,
Medic, Search and Rescue Tech,
Teacher and Nurse that I could have
been. Please remember that we are
spiritual beings on a human walk. Be
true to your walk, and do not let fear
dictate your life. May God bless my
brothers and sisters in the Big Bend
of Texas.
by Linda M. Duncum
A spirit of a man walks silently
among forested halls. His voice floats
as silently as a feather along the breath
of God. As he walks, the sounds of
songbirds fills the air, singing their
praises to our Creator. The gentle
breezes carry their songs through the
trees whose mighty arms stretch
upward encircling the sky. The smell
of pine rises from the forest floor dis-
turbed only by the memories of those
who have traveled along the roots of
these ancient soldiers.
In the early morning stillness the
Alas….solitude
Soon the silence is broken by the
crash of roaring trains, crying children
and crowds of careless tourists; the
sounds of lapping peaceful waters
strain against the sounds of man’s
metal monsters roaring above and
below.
A spiritual journey lost?
Alas….solitude no more.
The man stops and cries out to
those who can’t hear. “Do not walk to
the edge of the forest and stare… walk
in deeper.”
Frustrated he stops and whispers
quietly and gently into my ear. “Walk
quietly to the edge of your forest and
look across the pond…we will be wait-
ing for you there.”
Cenizo
Fourth Quarter 2013
25