My Father’s Death
Submission Type
Event
Faculty Advisor
Michael Theune
Expected Graduation Date
2019
Location
Room E102, Center for Natural Sciences, Illinois Wesleyan University
Start Date
4-21-2018 10:00 AM
End Date
4-21-2018 11:00 AM
Disciplines
Education
Abstract
My father, James Arlo Lewis, died October 30, 2016 from a lifelong battle of multiple liver diseases; hepatitis c, cirrhosis, and, most recently, liver cancer. A distinguishing problem with death is the living’s lack of preparation to effectively and sufficiently find an outlet to the many stages of grief and constant battle between progress and deterioration. Thankfully, I was enrolled in my first poetry class at the time of his death. Currently, I am writing with the determination to create and publish a project book of poetry that not only focuses the reader’s eye on the ugliness of a futile struggle against death but also my discoveries of him within and apart from fatherhood. His death functions more than an artistic landfill of inspiration for me to pull ideas from. It creates an opportunity for me to explore our estranged relationship, also teaching me how to unearth bits of myself in my work. I am challenged to look critically at the decisions he made throughout my childhood and find peace within my decisions to proceed living without him now, all the while continuing to learn about Jim the individual, not Jim the father.
My Father’s Death
Room E102, Center for Natural Sciences, Illinois Wesleyan University
My father, James Arlo Lewis, died October 30, 2016 from a lifelong battle of multiple liver diseases; hepatitis c, cirrhosis, and, most recently, liver cancer. A distinguishing problem with death is the living’s lack of preparation to effectively and sufficiently find an outlet to the many stages of grief and constant battle between progress and deterioration. Thankfully, I was enrolled in my first poetry class at the time of his death. Currently, I am writing with the determination to create and publish a project book of poetry that not only focuses the reader’s eye on the ugliness of a futile struggle against death but also my discoveries of him within and apart from fatherhood. His death functions more than an artistic landfill of inspiration for me to pull ideas from. It creates an opportunity for me to explore our estranged relationship, also teaching me how to unearth bits of myself in my work. I am challenged to look critically at the decisions he made throughout my childhood and find peace within my decisions to proceed living without him now, all the while continuing to learn about Jim the individual, not Jim the father.