I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

To honor a voice and a legacy

A friend died.
More than a friend really she was a family member by marriage. She was 31 years old. I won’t go into how long she suffered and how she died because her blog explains it all, her hopes, her fears and the speedway leading to the end of her life. Her battle was long, and her outlook always hopeful, so it surprised us all even though we knew the end was coming.

She was a writer, an amazing writer, a writer who was able to dig deep, connect and crawl back out of the hole fate dug her, while holding onto our hands and showing us the way.

Her husband, and many friends and family members, have organized a wonderful celebration of life in her honor. This was something she talked about before she died. We were asked to find quotes among her writings which were meaningful to us and post them in a book project which would be given to those attending the celebration. I chose to do something different.

From the hopefulness of the early days of her treatment, to hell and back, to hell again and back again, to a time when she admitted that the drugs they were giving her had only been given to rats, her blog is, at times, very difficult to read. 

But I read and reread her amazing legacy. 

From her chronicle of life, washed with hope and terribly diluted by agony, there is always her practical and poetic voice. I found dozens of wonderful one-liners about life, coping with illness, adapting, laughing and loving through adversity, and printed them on tiny strips of paper. Tomorrow I am filling bowls full of fortune cookies with them.

I am honored to share Karin Diamond's legacy, one fortune at a time.


  1. Thank you for providing the link. I may not personally have the strength to read it now but I will. I know you will do this courageous woman justice and your idea is brilliant. Sending my sympathies to all of you through what is a very difficult time. Your sista in the hood.

    1. Patty, If you do decide to read some of her blog, her earlier posts kind of guide you along as her world begins to shift. Always positive upbeat and brave, the later ones take on the reality which has been so hard for everyone to grasp. What is so terribly sad to me is that as the medical story of her life deepens she becomes a better writer. Always good but becomes better and at times great at communicating what is important.

      As we age we become aware of our own mortality, that we must accept each day as a gift. My mother-in-law at 93 talked about that all the time. I've been wrestling with the reality of how much or how little of life is ahead, for some time now. Aging does that. All we really have is now.
      Karin knew that early on. Sad that she had to learn that so young but how fortunate she was to have the time she had on earth each and every day. (Even the bad days were gifts for her.)

      I filled almost one hundred fortune cookies. I think she would have gotten a kick out of it.

  2. I could not read much of her blog. It was during her last days. Very rough and emotional. I can only imagine the difficult time this is for those around her even though my own mother passed a horrible death from cancer.

  3. Karin's celebration of life was wonderful. They set up 750 chairs under the huge amphitheater-tent; it was standing room only. Beautifully done. My bowl of 100 fortune cookies looked small but they held a lifetime of wonderful sentiment.
    The event was so sad yet so uplifting.