(4 of 4)
Then she climbed back down, and headed home — first to Longmont, then to New England, where she would be near her family.
"I think we do well to contemplate this life Diana has lived because of her vulnerability," says Patricia Huff. "The masks of bravery that people sometimes wear — Oh, Im okay. Dont worry about me. — often serve to keep others out. But Diana shows us that there are no easy answers in this world. We see incredible strength because, by observing her in her vulnerability, we understand what she must overcome every day, just to go on living. In her suffering, I see something transcendent. Life itself is visible. I almost want to look away — its almost too beautiful."
Her eyes begin to tear. She is sitting in Grafton Street, a cozy Harvard Square pub a couple of blocks from where she lives, and a couple of different blocks from where she works, at Cambridges Mt. Auburn Hospital. She is an ebullient, dark-haired woman, the youngest-looking grandmother youll ever see. She has come late to her calling. "Ive had hard knocks myself," she says. "Ive felt lost in my theology and in my life. Ive been in that no-mans land where there seem to be no answers, where God seems to be in vacation on Bangladesh all the time, helping the poor." She laughs; shes a high-spirited woman. "I still do protest all the time. I see someone like Diana — a beautiful woman, without a leg, without hair, without breasts. I have a hard time finding a way to deal with that. I have a lot of very pointed conversations with God about things like that."
Although Diana has told her its okay to discuss everything about her case — has, in fact, urged her to do so — Huff remains reluctant to call Mt. Auburn what it is: a psychiatric hospital. Diana has checked in there several times since returning east in March of 1996. A little more than a year ago, Diana attended one of Huffs Grief Groups at the hospital. "Its basically Grief 101," says Huff, wiping away a tear and smiling. "Its about facing the problem, naming it, claiming it, resynthesizing who you are. Diana seemed interested, and after the session she asked about the old expression, that God never gives you more than you can bear. I told her I thought it was ridiculous. I told her those sufferings have nothing to do with the hand of God, but that life often gives you more than you can bear." It was an answer Diana needed to hear.
"It really was out of the blue when she called me again," says Huff. "She told me she was getting married. Im thinking, Why would she tell me this wonderful thing?"
And she does think its wonderful, "a miracle," despite the risks and the obvious pain ahead for both parties. "Somehow, we all know truth in the deepest part of our hearts when we see it," she says. "We dont see it that often. I look at Steve and Diana and I see absolute, unconditional love. Again, we dont see it that often. Theyre saying: Love for the sake of love. We see it, we know it, we hope that were capable of it too."
In recent months Diana asked to see Huff again, then again, then asked her to speak at the wedding. The chaplain worried. "There are supposed to be very strong boundaries," she says. "Were not supposed to develop strong friendships outside the hospital. At one point I thought, oh, this is going too far. We were relating as women, as friends. I asked myself how I was going to negotiate this within my role." Huff starts to cry, and talks through her tears. "I was feeling like others around her were feeling — Oh no, I really love this person, and shes going to die. What should I do? And then I thought — She risks everything every day by continuing to love and continuing to live. If Im going to make a mistake, I say make it on the side of love." She sniffs, and immediately brightens. "She wants me to talk about cancer and hope," she says, smiling again. "Now how does one talk about cancer in the middle of a wedding? They dont teach you that in school."
If Patricia Huff was immediately thrilled about the miracle of Steve finding
Diana, almost everyone else close to these young people was stunned. Shocked.
Not to say horrified, but surely shocked. "You should have seen my sister," says
Diana. Shes trying to put the bread back together, as it has collapsed like the
Hindenberg. "Now thats something to get suicidal over." (Dont worry, its an
aside about the bread — its a joke.) "But, really, you should have seen my
sister."
The day you should have seen her sister, Meryl, was on January 1st of this year, 1997. "Steve and I had gone dancing at the Park Plaza Hotel in Boston the night before," says Diana. "That was the night he said, I love you. The very next day, Meryl and I were shopping at Neiman Marcus at the mall for. . . I dont know what," says Diana. "On a whim, I went up to the formal dresses section. I found this beautiful white, elegant, simple dress. I tried it on. I said to my sister, This is the dress Im going to marry Steve in. And she said, What? What are you talking about! Has he even talked of this? Has he proposed? I said not yet. But I was sure that he would.
"I bought the dress. I think its the last thing Ill ever buy there. Do you know what that store costs?"
Steve looked at his calendar, and picked his spot. "Chemo days arent the greatest days for Diana," he says. "So I thought Id make one of them a little better." He proposed at Dana Farber on February 14 — Valentines Day — while the drugs were dripping. The lady said yes.
"But I was worried very quickly thereafter," says Diana. "I remember standing out there once with Steve. . ." She gazes out the window at the arbor again. ". . .and I told him, I think Im getting cold foot. Thats all you can get, when youre one-legged."
Diana still had some thinking to do, and she did it on Peaks Island, off the coast of Maine, in late winter. In a rented house, with only canine company, she watched the morning sun rise over the Atlantic each day, and she contemplated the latest extraordinary events in her dazzling, roller-coaster life. She meditated, dreamt, rested, wrote poetry.
One on the rocky shore where it will lay,
vulnerable to the wind, rain, sleet and hail
until the harsh Maine snows bury it.
One in a pile of leaves amongst the trees
where it rests, indistinguishable,
and I see that they are not butterflies at all,
but rather the autumn leaves
doing their butterfly dance towards death.
Such valor they must have
to dance the dance so gracefully.
This was better.
Meanwhile, Steve was telling his friends about Newport, about the Park Plaza, about Diana, about his excitement. During a trip to England he visited with his spiritual advisor — his Patricia Huff — an Anglican minister named Fr. John Francis. "I had met him when I went over to do a seminar with kids on drawing," says Steve. "I thought he was very interesting, very smart." And now, Father John grilled him for two hour to get at the reasons for his actions. "He cared about me, thats really what it was all about," Steve says as he stops in the backyard, and looks toward the tree. "We kept at me till two a.m.
"Look," he continues. "I am not anxious about how Im going to do with this, though I know it will end with sadness. I have faith that Im going to be able to do what I have to do to deal with it appropriately. Yes, there is concern about me on the part of my family, my friends. Theyre concerned about Diana, but also about me. I appreciate it.
"But also, they know Im as happy as I've ever been. And this, right now is more important — even in the eyes of those who care about me — than whatever dread and sadness might someday come.
"As for that, Im confidant Ill be able to handle it. When it comes."
Steve came back from England with Father Johns blessing and a promise to participate in the wedding. Diana returned from Peaks Island composed and as happy as she had been in years. They set up house together in Bristol, and began to plan the big day. They made several decisions: August 9, family and friends only, a simple honeymoon. Other things about the future: Settle in Bristol, Steve buys the classic car, both Diana and Steve would be there at the Waldorf in October when Diana is inducted — at last — into the Womens Sports Hall of Fame.
They quickly grew to love their life together. They embellished it here and there. Diana remembered how much her parents and their friends used to enjoy gin-and-tonics at cocktail hour. She called her mom, and was taught how to make gin-and-tonics. She and Steve added that to their routine: g-and-ts as the sun sets over the bay.
There were — and are — storms. "We have arguments, and in a lot of the cases my situation is the cause of it," says Diana.
"I want to get her to fight the disease," says Steve. "Sometimes, that suggestion alone gets her upset. I can tell when a big discussion — or worse — is coming. Some mornings I just know that, before the day is done, well be going through something heavy."
"Its not all perfect, but we do have so many beautiful days here," Diana says as she sits on the porch. "And we have that special day coming." She pauses, and looks at the tree. "So many of the other days are beautiful too. Sometimes, even that makes me mad. We can have a perfectly normal day, a day when Steve and I are together and everything goes right. But if something exceptional — really special — doesnt happened, I get upset. Maybe we went riding on the tandem bike down by the bay, and that was lovely — but was it enough? It should be. But the thing is, I know we only have so many days left, and I want each one to be. . .incredible."
Diana, before she met Steve, had finally convinced herself to settle for a pain-filled yet oddly painless status quo existence. She had talked herself into living rather than dying, and was convinced she could live, numbly, until she inevitably died. And then she fell in love, and the needle on the graph started to fluctuate again. Fluctuate wildly. Only a short time ago, she was willing to die bravely. And now she has Steve, and that causes its own problems.
We all know, all of us do, that death is waiting. But few of us feel that death is beckoning. Its a mighty difference, a difference hard to live with. Dianas trying; so is Steve. For not to try is not to love each other, and not to love each other, now, is impossible. Love is the foundation and the shelter itself. Love means life, and life no longer stands for anything, without love.
It is August 9, 1997. Family members assemble in the backyard in Bristol. The
breeze blows strongly off the bay as, beneath the chestnut tree, Diana and Steve
pledge themselves to one another. He looks very handsome — theres almost a
Harrison Fords-kid-brother thing going on. She, having been given a two-week
chemo break by Dr. Garber, and wearing that knockout dress and that wonderful
smile, looks lovely. Dianas brother, Mark, reads a poem he has written about the
Fly Knight — proper name, it turns out, for "Bug Man" of Newport. Uncle Murray
proposes his toast, Patricia Huff makes it through her speech about cancer and
hope. On this wonderful afternoon there are lots of laughs and tears of all
kinds — joy, sympathy, sorrow, with joy predominating.
Diana and Steve walk hand in hand across the lawn, thinking to themselves what newlyweds think: This is the first day of the rest of our life.
Postscript: It is August 31, 2001. Diana is no longer with us, survived by her
husband, her mother, a brother and a sister.
I told you many words ago that she and I stayed in touch. She kept up with
the progress of my family, which grew from zero children in 1997 to three today.
She always asked after the kids first, not with sadness but with enthusiasm. She
told me how much she was enjoying not only her wonderful marriage, but being an
aunt. She said she was over-indulgent, but I am betting she was a fine and
inspirational an aunt as old New England has ever known.