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== '''The Dr. Melissa Diane Carter Memorial, in the spirit of both mourning and remembrance...''' == |
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BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION: |
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Dr. Melissa Diane Carter was born November 4, 1950 in Atlanta, Georgia. Graduating from Marist in 1968, she attended the University of Georgia graduating with a degree in Biology. One of her fondest memories stemmed from her last year at Georgia as a proud member of the Demothenian Literary Society. |
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Yabba Dabba Doo |
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After receiving her OB-GYN from the prestigious Johns Hopkins University, she started her practice in Monterey, California. While practicing in California, she met, and then married Abraham Kulwin. It was then that she converted to Judaism. After Abraham passed away years later, she moved to Chicago, Illinois. Dr. Carter spent the last few years of her life with her nephew in West Palm Beach, Florida before passing away Christmas Day, 2002 after losing a courageous fight with ovarian cancer. |
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girrrrrr |
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Before her passing, one of her driving passions was the quest for peace the Middle East. In February, 2003, her estate donated monies to various organizations in the hope of keeping the discussion alive. Two of those organizations which gained funding for such a discussion were the University of Georgia Campus Center for Jewish Life and The Demosthenian Literary Society. |
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I do believe you have a birdbath on your head. May I enquire as to why? Not a'tall. |
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Through these debates her memory will live on, touching the lives of all those who benefit from the ongoing discussion. |
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Captain Spanky is awesome. |
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---- |
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The Death of Laura by Jean V. Dickson |
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(Originally published in The Cormorant, this poem is written by Laura's |
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daughter about the death of her mother in 1985.) |
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Starved fingers with gnarled knobs of knuckles |
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lie across the crisp line of white linen; |
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the cancer has dined upon her flesh, |
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shrinking her until her body |
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only gently waves the waffled weave |
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of the ocean-blue hospital blanket. |
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Her breath comes tortured now, |
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ribs rattling beneath each tide, |
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precious bubbles breaking loose |
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within her lungs |
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to join the rising waters. |
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A stop - is it over? |
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Waiting with both hope and dread. |
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But no, the wasted body shudders |
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and tremors move the waves once more. |
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Her soiled diapers foul the air, |
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she cannot walk and is denied |
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the strength to speak. |
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Her lungs fight against |
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the rising waters |
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- a slow drowning and |
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as she gurgles on her air |
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I scream at the nurse |
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"Can nothing be done?" |
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Returning steps echo vibrant, healthy - |
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within her hand a coiling tube. |
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She places the plastic snake upon |
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the stainless cart |
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and begins the procedure of mercy. |
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Slowly she feeds its head |
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into Laura's depths. |
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And as I watch I jump |
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in shocked realization |
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away from the bed |
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and from the accusation |
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upon my mother's face |
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in the flash that briefly strikes |
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her eyes as the sun upon a rippling wave |
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when tubing bites its way |
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along diseased inner passageways. |
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Then the look is gone |
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but I feel its sting |
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upon my face and feel |
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a vital flow of blood to my cheek. |
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I miss the moment when death creeps slowly |
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upon her and suddenly seizes its prize; |
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the tide reaching its height within her lungs. |
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They tell me she suddenly reached upward |
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towards heaven with her body |
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at the moment of the tide's triumph, |
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wearied eyelids rising in resurrection, |
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sea-blue irises looking in recognition |
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towards the empty doorway, |
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her face more radiant than a thousand suns, |
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a look of surprise and welcome wonder |
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upon her face. |
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Only seconds later I enter the room |
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and knowledge squeezes its wizened fingers |
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upon my violently pounding heart, |
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loosening as a stronger hand triumphs its hold. |
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God's miracle has fashioned glory |
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from eighty pounds of shrunken tissue, |
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cartilage and cancer |
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and renews the burdened hope within my soul. |
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Never has my mother been so beautiful |
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as at her moment of flight - |
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a bride eloping with her bridegroom, |
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hand in hand together as they |
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fly upon the tidal sea. |
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---- |
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Yis'ga'dal v'yis'kadash sh'may ra'bbo, b'olmo dee'vro chir'usay v'yamlich malchu'say, b'chayaychon uv'yomay'chon uv'chayay d'chol bais Yisroel, ba'agolo u'viz'man koriv; v'imru Omein. |
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Y'hay shmay rabbo m'vorach l'olam ul'olmay olmayo. |
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Yisborach v'yishtabach v'yispoar v'yisromam v'yismasay, v'yishador v'yis'aleh v'yisalal, shmay d'kudsho, brich hu, l'aylo min kl birchoso v'sheeroso, tush'bechoso v'nechemoso, da,ameeran b'olmo; vimru Omein. |
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Y'hay shlomo rabbo min sh'mayo, v'chayim alaynu v'al kol Yisroel; v'imru Omein. |
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Oseh sholom bimromov, hu ya'aseh sholom olaynu, v'al kol yisroel; vimru Omein. |
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Website: http://www.geocities.com/mdcmemorial/MDC_Memorial |
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Revision as of 02:29, 20 January 2008
The Dr. Melissa Diane Carter Memorial, in the spirit of both mourning and remembrance...
BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION:
Dr. Melissa Diane Carter was born November 4, 1950 in Atlanta, Georgia. Graduating from Marist in 1968, she attended the University of Georgia graduating with a degree in Biology. One of her fondest memories stemmed from her last year at Georgia as a proud member of the Demothenian Literary Society.
After receiving her OB-GYN from the prestigious Johns Hopkins University, she started her practice in Monterey, California. While practicing in California, she met, and then married Abraham Kulwin. It was then that she converted to Judaism. After Abraham passed away years later, she moved to Chicago, Illinois. Dr. Carter spent the last few years of her life with her nephew in West Palm Beach, Florida before passing away Christmas Day, 2002 after losing a courageous fight with ovarian cancer.
Before her passing, one of her driving passions was the quest for peace the Middle East. In February, 2003, her estate donated monies to various organizations in the hope of keeping the discussion alive. Two of those organizations which gained funding for such a discussion were the University of Georgia Campus Center for Jewish Life and The Demosthenian Literary Society.
Through these debates her memory will live on, touching the lives of all those who benefit from the ongoing discussion.
The Death of Laura by Jean V. Dickson (Originally published in The Cormorant, this poem is written by Laura's daughter about the death of her mother in 1985.)
Starved fingers with gnarled knobs of knuckles lie across the crisp line of white linen; the cancer has dined upon her flesh, shrinking her until her body only gently waves the waffled weave of the ocean-blue hospital blanket. Her breath comes tortured now, ribs rattling beneath each tide, precious bubbles breaking loose within her lungs to join the rising waters. A stop - is it over? Waiting with both hope and dread. But no, the wasted body shudders and tremors move the waves once more.
Her soiled diapers foul the air, she cannot walk and is denied the strength to speak. Her lungs fight against the rising waters - a slow drowning and as she gurgles on her air I scream at the nurse "Can nothing be done?"
Returning steps echo vibrant, healthy - within her hand a coiling tube. She places the plastic snake upon the stainless cart and begins the procedure of mercy.
Slowly she feeds its head into Laura's depths. And as I watch I jump in shocked realization away from the bed and from the accusation upon my mother's face in the flash that briefly strikes her eyes as the sun upon a rippling wave when tubing bites its way along diseased inner passageways.
Then the look is gone but I feel its sting upon my face and feel a vital flow of blood to my cheek.
I miss the moment when death creeps slowly upon her and suddenly seizes its prize; the tide reaching its height within her lungs. They tell me she suddenly reached upward towards heaven with her body at the moment of the tide's triumph, wearied eyelids rising in resurrection, sea-blue irises looking in recognition towards the empty doorway, her face more radiant than a thousand suns, a look of surprise and welcome wonder upon her face. Only seconds later I enter the room and knowledge squeezes its wizened fingers upon my violently pounding heart, loosening as a stronger hand triumphs its hold. God's miracle has fashioned glory from eighty pounds of shrunken tissue, cartilage and cancer and renews the burdened hope within my soul. Never has my mother been so beautiful as at her moment of flight - a bride eloping with her bridegroom, hand in hand together as they fly upon the tidal sea.
Yis'ga'dal v'yis'kadash sh'may ra'bbo, b'olmo dee'vro chir'usay v'yamlich malchu'say, b'chayaychon uv'yomay'chon uv'chayay d'chol bais Yisroel, ba'agolo u'viz'man koriv; v'imru Omein. Y'hay shmay rabbo m'vorach l'olam ul'olmay olmayo. Yisborach v'yishtabach v'yispoar v'yisromam v'yismasay, v'yishador v'yis'aleh v'yisalal, shmay d'kudsho, brich hu, l'aylo min kl birchoso v'sheeroso, tush'bechoso v'nechemoso, da,ameeran b'olmo; vimru Omein. Y'hay shlomo rabbo min sh'mayo, v'chayim alaynu v'al kol Yisroel; v'imru Omein. Oseh sholom bimromov, hu ya'aseh sholom olaynu, v'al kol yisroel; vimru Omein.