Martha Ann

After Nam I spent a month with my family, did the DOD School and went to Germany to finish my military time.

My sister, Martha Ann, 13, developed a cold that winter. My father wrote letters about her condition. Her energy dropped. She became weak. He took her to doctors for a diagnosis.

She had a rare form of AML leukemia and started chemotherapy. She needed bone marrow transplants in her short future. The prognosis was maybe five years for a complete remission.

She prospered in school and Girl Scouts with a positive mental attitude.

Neighbors had horses and she formed a loving relationship with them.

Her long blond hair flies in wind. She embodies a strong discipline in the saddle. Her back is straight. Approaching a jump over an abyss, fear is defeated by her courage.

She leaves the stable leading a Palomino. She wears tall black boots, riding pants, and a stiff white shirt buttoned at her frail neck. Only I know she is sick and dying. It is our secret. She smiles at me.

She whispers magic words and you know by the animal’s response they love and trust each other. She rides in green pastures under a bright blue sky. Her face is serene.

Her sickness was a long slow meandering journey. She maintained her optimism, smiling, laughing, and doing excellent in school. She knew she was sick. She was a warrior girl child.

Horses gave her freedom and passion. She rode every day after school. Weekends were cleaning, grooming, laughing and loving her relationships.

Her spirit is clear. She has no fear.

Her pain was a sickness leaving her fragile body.

Doctors tried every experimental drug on the market. Drugs made her long blond hair fall out. She wore a wig. She tolerated inane questions and insinuative cruel bullying from classmates. She maintained her dignity and integrity.

“Dad, what happens when they run out of experimental drugs?” she asked at dinner. He had no answer.

The broken-hearted man brought his daughter home from Children’s Hospital in Denver for her last Christmas. She enjoyed snow, a warm fire, magic tree, cats, presents and love.

Her heart gave out three days after Christmas, 1972.

I received the expected phone call at the Kassel Field Station.

“Martha is gone,” said my father’s cracking voice.

“What happened?”

“I went to the hospital on my lunch hour and she was lying there and she looked so beautiful yet so weak and she said, ‘Dad, hold me, I’m going to faint,’ and I did and then her heart stopped. It just wore her out.”

I cried, “I’m so sorry dad. I’ll get a flight out.”

“You will always remember her as a happy little girl.”

Angels and peace welcomed Martha Ann. She never saw fourteen of anything. She never went to high school or college, fell in love, worked, lived, laughed, traveled, explored future worlds or experienced a longer life with her vibrant trembling spirit. Her existence was all wrapped up in one tight package with an expiration date.

Cold winter was her refuge and now.

Her childlike joy and spirit energies soared away from her labyrinth. She evolved on her path of light, love, and perfection. No longer a human on a spiritual path she was a spiritual being on a human path.

On her brief sojourn before crossing time’s river she demonstrated tolerance, integrity, kindness, tranquility, dignity, empathy and truth. Martha Ann validated her authenticity. She hurled her thunderbolt.

ART