Note:  This photo is my most precious possession.  It goes along with the story that I am about to tell. I originally posted this in February of 2005.  I think that it’s worth telling again.  I have added some more information because the emotion is not as raw.  I hope that what you see in this is not a girl dying of cancer, but the triumph of the human spirit.  Maybe someday when you are faced with something that seems impossible, you will think of this story and understand that you are capable of enduring so much more than you ever imagined you could.

THE BEAUTY OF THE SOUL…

02.09.05 (10:12 pm)
The beauty of the soul shines out when a man bears with composure one heavy misfortune after another, not because he does not feel them, but because he is a man of high and heroic temper. --Aristotle

Last Tuesday night wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and a yellow Chrysanthemum behind her ear, Alison Haley Cloud walked into the Crossing Café with her two best friends, drank a Jones Soda and spit in the face of cancer.

Had someone told me that morning that Ali would ever again walk out our door I would have thought them cruel. Yet, there she sat, drinking a soda, radiant in her victory and oblivious to the fact that her very presence added value to the lives of everyone around her.

Ali hadn’t been able to eat solid food for nearly a month. She was extremely thin and had been barely able to speak or walk for days—not even the short walk to the bathroom.  It was about 7:00 p.m. and she very insistently asked to see her friend Gaby.  When I walked in to check on them,  I saw Ali sitting up in bed while Gaby combed her hair and applied her eye shadow.  The clash of emotions in seeing this hurt so much that I had to leave the room to regain my composure..

When I went back in, Megan was scurrying around the room for various pieces of clothing and then Ali told everyone to leave for a minute.  When the room was cleared, I said “what’s going on Birdie?”  Very slowly—trying to form her words, she said, "I need to leave this house.”
“Ali…” , I answered, not knowing if it was her or the morphine speaking...
“Mom,!” she said very emphatically, with her beautiful brown eyes pleading, “I need to leave this house.  I want to go to the crossing.”

There were a million reasons why we shouldn’t go… but they all paled in comparison to the one reason that we should.

Kayla showed up as we were getting her ready and cancelled her plans so that she could join Ali at the coffeehouse. It took two of us to hold her up and one to tuck in the tubes from her pain medication. As we headed toward the stairs, she stopped at her wall vase and asked for one of the yellow Chrysanthemums, which she placed behind her ear.

I could tell that Kayla and Gaby were working very hard to hold back their tears.

I had the car warming up and scraped the snow from the porch.  It took forever to get down the stairs and put her in the car.  Inside, I was frantic.

All eyes were on Ali as we led her slowly from the back door of the Crossing to the couch that she had set her sights on. I left her alone with her friends and went to get them a soda.  As Ali had worked at the Crossing, people who knew her began to gather around.  I stood across the room with her dad who I had called to meet us and we held back our tears as we watched our brave and determined daughter.

The Hospice nurse later told us that Ali’s trip to the Crossing had the same effect on her as running a Marathon would have on any one of us. That night, as I lay in bed next to her, she moaned and cried because her body ached. Her body ached but her spirit soared. She had done the unthinkable.

Ali’s soul has never stopped shining. Misfortune after misfortune has been heaped upon her tender shoulders and she has never buckled, never faltered, never let the light go out of her eyes. Her body was failing her but her spirit would not. Never again will I be the same. How can I ever expect to lead an ordinary life when I have been witness to a hero wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt and a yellow Chrysanthemum?