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Bless the Birds
Writer Susan Tweit and her economist-turned-sculptor husband Richard Cabe had just settled into their version of a “good life” when Richard saw thousands of birds one day―harbingers of the brain cancer that would kill him two years later. This compelling and intimate memoir chronicles their journey into the end of his life, framed by their final trip together, a 4,000-mile-long delayed honeymoon road trip.
As Susan and Richard navigate the unfamiliar territory of brain cancer treatment and learn a whole new vocabulary―craniotomies, adjuvant chemotherapy, and brain geography―they also develop new routines for a mindful existence, relying on each other and their connection to nature, including the real birds Richard enjoys watching. Their determination to walk hand in hand, with open hearts, results in profound and difficult adjustments in their roles.
Bless the Birds is not a sad story. It is both prayer and love song, a guide to how to thrive in a world where all we hold dear seems to be eroding, whether simple civility and respect, our health and safety, or the Earth itself. It’s an exploration of living with love in a time of dying―whether personal or global―with humor, unflinching courage, and grace. And it is an invitation to choose to live in light of what we love, rather than what we fear.
As Susan and Richard navigate the unfamiliar territory of brain cancer treatment and learn a whole new vocabulary―craniotomies, adjuvant chemotherapy, and brain geography―they also develop new routines for a mindful existence, relying on each other and their connection to nature, including the real birds Richard enjoys watching. Their determination to walk hand in hand, with open hearts, results in profound and difficult adjustments in their roles.
Bless the Birds is not a sad story. It is both prayer and love song, a guide to how to thrive in a world where all we hold dear seems to be eroding, whether simple civility and respect, our health and safety, or the Earth itself. It’s an exploration of living with love in a time of dying―whether personal or global―with humor, unflinching courage, and grace. And it is an invitation to choose to live in light of what we love, rather than what we fear.
- GenresMemoir
312 pages, Paperback
Published April 27, 2021
16 people are currently reading
169 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 38 reviews
March 5, 2021
I very much enjoyed reading "Bless The Birds." Tweit did a great job incorporating the philosophy that death is merely a beginning for new life. She handled the slow decline of her husband's death in a graceful and intelligent manner, which she illustrates in her novel. Tweit's ability to share such a deep and emotional part of her life in such a well-written way engages and moves the reader. The short flashbacks and paragraphs of reflection add to the book and helps you connect with Tweit and her story.
Throughout the book, I empathized with the author, feeling her grief at some events and her love and happiness at others. Susan and Richard's authentic love for each other is expressed so well in the book. The reader clearly understands the connection of the two nature-loving souls, and with that, the dark depression of losing a partner.
I would recommend this book for anyone that has lost an important individual in their life, or for any caregivers that are witnessing the end of the circle of life. Tweit's story is sure to help many suffering through grief find happiness in the last few moments or to accept that the absence of a body is not the absence of a legacy.
Throughout the book, I empathized with the author, feeling her grief at some events and her love and happiness at others. Susan and Richard's authentic love for each other is expressed so well in the book. The reader clearly understands the connection of the two nature-loving souls, and with that, the dark depression of losing a partner.
I would recommend this book for anyone that has lost an important individual in their life, or for any caregivers that are witnessing the end of the circle of life. Tweit's story is sure to help many suffering through grief find happiness in the last few moments or to accept that the absence of a body is not the absence of a legacy.
April 23, 2021
I saw the book’s cover first—a high flock of birds soaring, silhouetted against a robin’s egg sky. The title spanned the same skyscape, immediately attracting me to the memoir Bless the Birds: Living with Love in a Time of Dying.
Then I learned that author Susan Tweit, a plant ecologist and naturalist, thrives on long, often solitary forays into unpeopled lands for regular doses of Vitamin N—her label for the nature that revitalizes and fuels her.
Of course, I could relate.
And since, as I write this, doctors are infusing a dear, long-time friend with trial drugs to treat her own advancing glioblastoma, the author’s courageous love through the long storm of her husband’s brain cancer held powerful immediacy for me.
So I wrote her and asked for an advance copy to review prior to the book’s April launch. When it arrived, here’s what I found:
The book opens gently, as Susan and her husband Richard embark on what will be their last road trip:
“. . . a belated honeymoon journey because our time together was short. Because we were determined to live every moment. Scanning Richard’s face, I was searching for grace, which to me is the ability to embrace life with a combination of balance, harmony and beauty. The ability to be present, heart open, even in—especially in—the moments when our hearts want to flinch, freeze, or turn away. When all seems lost: the wounded bird dies in our hands; the strayed child is not found safe and sound; the light of life on this animate planet flickers, as if to fade out.”
From there, she carries readers into scenes that are raw, intimate, and detailed, with pacing that’s important to a story like this. Kairos and chronos time overlap, leaping and lingering between memory and the immediate, between beautiful interludes and aching tedium and loss.
Susan holds nothing back. Her Richard is losing his stellar, loving mind—one surgery, one round of chemo, one round of radiation at a time. In painful, graphic exchanges, the once red-headed author hurls curses as she collides with her beloved husband’s decline, her own limitations, and their inability to change the ultimate course of the disease. In the same stretch of time, she loses her mother. Her grief and anger and exhaustion are palpable.
But there’s much more to the narrative than that.
Before I explain, you must know that I have developed a long practice of watching for God’s kindness and care in a world broken by all kinds of death. I spend significant time spotting his sweet gifts to those who trust Him, those who don’t, and those who are uncertain about Him. Looking for ways his principles and design can equip all of humankind to deal with adversity and loss here in this world, should people choose to embrace them.
And embrace them Susan does. While this is not the memoir of a Christ-follower coming to terms with eternal life, Susan and Richard, with her Quaker and his Buddhist practices, employ what I recognize as God’s common grace, available to us all. Throughout the dying, they commit to loving well. They choose gratitude and other-centeredness, cherishing family, friends, and each other. They live together attentively. Listen fully. They seek out nature’s winsome beauty in birds and animals, landscapes and stone. With awe, they value the universe and its inhabitants, and the science that explains how it functions.
As they do, they make their final season together as meaningful as they humanly can—in the world Richard leaves all too soon.
Then I learned that author Susan Tweit, a plant ecologist and naturalist, thrives on long, often solitary forays into unpeopled lands for regular doses of Vitamin N—her label for the nature that revitalizes and fuels her.
Of course, I could relate.
And since, as I write this, doctors are infusing a dear, long-time friend with trial drugs to treat her own advancing glioblastoma, the author’s courageous love through the long storm of her husband’s brain cancer held powerful immediacy for me.
So I wrote her and asked for an advance copy to review prior to the book’s April launch. When it arrived, here’s what I found:
The book opens gently, as Susan and her husband Richard embark on what will be their last road trip:
“. . . a belated honeymoon journey because our time together was short. Because we were determined to live every moment. Scanning Richard’s face, I was searching for grace, which to me is the ability to embrace life with a combination of balance, harmony and beauty. The ability to be present, heart open, even in—especially in—the moments when our hearts want to flinch, freeze, or turn away. When all seems lost: the wounded bird dies in our hands; the strayed child is not found safe and sound; the light of life on this animate planet flickers, as if to fade out.”
From there, she carries readers into scenes that are raw, intimate, and detailed, with pacing that’s important to a story like this. Kairos and chronos time overlap, leaping and lingering between memory and the immediate, between beautiful interludes and aching tedium and loss.
Susan holds nothing back. Her Richard is losing his stellar, loving mind—one surgery, one round of chemo, one round of radiation at a time. In painful, graphic exchanges, the once red-headed author hurls curses as she collides with her beloved husband’s decline, her own limitations, and their inability to change the ultimate course of the disease. In the same stretch of time, she loses her mother. Her grief and anger and exhaustion are palpable.
But there’s much more to the narrative than that.
Before I explain, you must know that I have developed a long practice of watching for God’s kindness and care in a world broken by all kinds of death. I spend significant time spotting his sweet gifts to those who trust Him, those who don’t, and those who are uncertain about Him. Looking for ways his principles and design can equip all of humankind to deal with adversity and loss here in this world, should people choose to embrace them.
And embrace them Susan does. While this is not the memoir of a Christ-follower coming to terms with eternal life, Susan and Richard, with her Quaker and his Buddhist practices, employ what I recognize as God’s common grace, available to us all. Throughout the dying, they commit to loving well. They choose gratitude and other-centeredness, cherishing family, friends, and each other. They live together attentively. Listen fully. They seek out nature’s winsome beauty in birds and animals, landscapes and stone. With awe, they value the universe and its inhabitants, and the science that explains how it functions.
As they do, they make their final season together as meaningful as they humanly can—in the world Richard leaves all too soon.
June 1, 2021
A love story. Beautifully written.
May 17, 2021
More than I expected, this memoir manages to convey the sadness of losing a long-term partner, the beauty of the natural world they inhabit, and the joy of sharing their remaining time together in a final journey through the West they both love. All in one book. What a feat! So beautifully written, I had to slow myself down to let the sentences sink in, even when I wanted to turn the pages faster to see what the author and her husband would face next. Even knowing the ending, the story is in the journey - physical, spiritual and emotional - this woman traveled.
November 5, 2021
Susan Tweit walks us through the unimaginable experience of what it's like to deal with a loved one dying from glioblastoma. We know from the outset that her beloved Richard will die, but what is stunning is their decision to live and love in a time of dying. The experiences they have, the joys and the difficulties, are woven into the story of their lives as they take one last long roadtrip together. A well-written inspired love story that will make you think about your own life, and how you choose to live it.
May 31, 2021
A beautiful and deeply personal memoir and a testimony to love.
June 1, 2021
www.smhovem.com/blog/blessthebirds
Call and Response: Bless the Birds
I’m not an active birder—I don’t have a pair of binoculars, nor do I set out with the intention to identify and catalog the birds of any given area. I find them, however, beautiful, exotic, and even sacred in how they traverse both the sky and the land. I also extend to them a mythical status of being messengers, full of symbolism and mystery. (read my last blog here. Also, avian-themed.)
According to Melissa McGill, a New York-based interdisciplinary artist known for public art projects that explore the intersection of human culture and the natural world, birds are environmental indicators, and “a diverse bird community signals a healthy environment.” McGill’s project entitled “Call and Response” collected over a hundred different video samplings of bird sounds in their local habitat.
Ornithologists classify bird vocalization into either songs or calls; songs being more complex and with a clear pattern. Songs are used to defend territory and attract mates and are mostly sung by males. Whereas, calls are short and are used by both sexes to communicate varied information and to keep contact intact.
In Susan J. Tweit’s memoir Bless the Birds: Living with Love in a Time of Dying, it is her husband’s vision of thousands of birds in the landscape before him that offers the first clue that something is actually amiss in his neurological environment. The momentary hallucination becomes both a clarion call and a harbinger of a building health crisis.
As I read Bless the Birds, which was published in April 2021 by She Writes Press, I reflected on the call and response-like connection between the author and her terminally ill husband, Richard. As she shares their life living with love in the time of his dying from brain cancer, the tenderness of their commitment is showcased as one calls out simply “I love you,” and the other responds in turn with the same declaration. Or they recite to each other lines of poetry, which have guided and connected them through nearly thirty years of marriage. It is a beautiful telling of the strains and challenges of caregiving while addressing how both must contend with how to intentionally and compassionately let go of the life they shared.
“Love” was not just a word we traded. It was a way of living that Richard and I deliberately cultivated—our expression of both our bond and our species’ terraphilia. At bedtime, we each spoke intentions aloud as part of our practice of mindfulness, a word that has become almost trite but that has real meaning. Mindfulness is simply an effort to be aware of our moment-by-moment experience and choices—of thoughts, feelings, and what goes on around us—without judgment, but with the intention of living “awake,” not on autopilot. The words we spoke to each other each night were a promise to be our best selves.”
Excerpt From: Susan J. Tweit. “Bless the Birds.” iBooks. https://books.apple.com/us/book/bless...
Tweit is a plant biologist. Richard was an economist turned sculptor. Individually and jointly, they embraced and created a harmonious existence with the natural world. They coined the concept terraphilia, inspired by “humans’ innate affiliation with the earth and its web of life.” This mutual respect for the natural world presented them with timeless wisdom, guiding them through each stage of Richard’s decline.
This memoir takes the reader into the reality of caregiving, which Tweit is quick to point out that “the ‘care’ in ‘caregiving’ comes first, no matter how difficult.” At times in the book when grief is building and the inevitable death of Richard is nearing, Tweit shares beautiful passages describing the natural landscapes and the native fauna that surround them. Richard was a birder, as was Tweit’s parents; And her willingness to highlight the birds they encounter as they take one final road trip offers a broad emotional registry of how their final days were a mix of joy and grief.
McGill’s project “Call and Response“ (https://www.callandresponseproject.org) contends that “humans have always been attracted to birdsong and bird sounds.” I personally acknowledge that birds connect us to the rhythm of our days beginning with their crack-of-dawn singing and ending with their evening dusk songs. Without their presence, it would be unfathomable to imagine what life would resemble. This may also be what Tweit’s grief felt like as she imagined her life without her partner. The reader, too, must prepare for the shorter and shorter call-and-response between Tweit and Richard, until the last whispered syllable of “love” is returned.
This memoir is true to its title, and its structure is a marvel of timelines that weave and build, not unlike a nest, and holds our hearts open to witness Tweit and Richard’s journey. I take away many elements of respect and grace from this story, but the following passage stands out as a testament to what it means to Live in the Time of Dying:
“True courage is strength that comes from the heart—courage that carries the power of love. It takes courage to be honest, to meet with an open heart whatever comes. To practice kindness in a time of hatefulness, to speak truth to power. To live with love in a world awash in fear and grief.” Excerpt From: Susan J. Tweit. “Bless the Birds.” iBooks. https://books.apple.com/us/book/bless...
Call and Response: Bless the Birds
I’m not an active birder—I don’t have a pair of binoculars, nor do I set out with the intention to identify and catalog the birds of any given area. I find them, however, beautiful, exotic, and even sacred in how they traverse both the sky and the land. I also extend to them a mythical status of being messengers, full of symbolism and mystery. (read my last blog here. Also, avian-themed.)
According to Melissa McGill, a New York-based interdisciplinary artist known for public art projects that explore the intersection of human culture and the natural world, birds are environmental indicators, and “a diverse bird community signals a healthy environment.” McGill’s project entitled “Call and Response” collected over a hundred different video samplings of bird sounds in their local habitat.
Ornithologists classify bird vocalization into either songs or calls; songs being more complex and with a clear pattern. Songs are used to defend territory and attract mates and are mostly sung by males. Whereas, calls are short and are used by both sexes to communicate varied information and to keep contact intact.
In Susan J. Tweit’s memoir Bless the Birds: Living with Love in a Time of Dying, it is her husband’s vision of thousands of birds in the landscape before him that offers the first clue that something is actually amiss in his neurological environment. The momentary hallucination becomes both a clarion call and a harbinger of a building health crisis.
As I read Bless the Birds, which was published in April 2021 by She Writes Press, I reflected on the call and response-like connection between the author and her terminally ill husband, Richard. As she shares their life living with love in the time of his dying from brain cancer, the tenderness of their commitment is showcased as one calls out simply “I love you,” and the other responds in turn with the same declaration. Or they recite to each other lines of poetry, which have guided and connected them through nearly thirty years of marriage. It is a beautiful telling of the strains and challenges of caregiving while addressing how both must contend with how to intentionally and compassionately let go of the life they shared.
“Love” was not just a word we traded. It was a way of living that Richard and I deliberately cultivated—our expression of both our bond and our species’ terraphilia. At bedtime, we each spoke intentions aloud as part of our practice of mindfulness, a word that has become almost trite but that has real meaning. Mindfulness is simply an effort to be aware of our moment-by-moment experience and choices—of thoughts, feelings, and what goes on around us—without judgment, but with the intention of living “awake,” not on autopilot. The words we spoke to each other each night were a promise to be our best selves.”
Excerpt From: Susan J. Tweit. “Bless the Birds.” iBooks. https://books.apple.com/us/book/bless...
Tweit is a plant biologist. Richard was an economist turned sculptor. Individually and jointly, they embraced and created a harmonious existence with the natural world. They coined the concept terraphilia, inspired by “humans’ innate affiliation with the earth and its web of life.” This mutual respect for the natural world presented them with timeless wisdom, guiding them through each stage of Richard’s decline.
This memoir takes the reader into the reality of caregiving, which Tweit is quick to point out that “the ‘care’ in ‘caregiving’ comes first, no matter how difficult.” At times in the book when grief is building and the inevitable death of Richard is nearing, Tweit shares beautiful passages describing the natural landscapes and the native fauna that surround them. Richard was a birder, as was Tweit’s parents; And her willingness to highlight the birds they encounter as they take one final road trip offers a broad emotional registry of how their final days were a mix of joy and grief.
McGill’s project “Call and Response“ (https://www.callandresponseproject.org) contends that “humans have always been attracted to birdsong and bird sounds.” I personally acknowledge that birds connect us to the rhythm of our days beginning with their crack-of-dawn singing and ending with their evening dusk songs. Without their presence, it would be unfathomable to imagine what life would resemble. This may also be what Tweit’s grief felt like as she imagined her life without her partner. The reader, too, must prepare for the shorter and shorter call-and-response between Tweit and Richard, until the last whispered syllable of “love” is returned.
This memoir is true to its title, and its structure is a marvel of timelines that weave and build, not unlike a nest, and holds our hearts open to witness Tweit and Richard’s journey. I take away many elements of respect and grace from this story, but the following passage stands out as a testament to what it means to Live in the Time of Dying:
“True courage is strength that comes from the heart—courage that carries the power of love. It takes courage to be honest, to meet with an open heart whatever comes. To practice kindness in a time of hatefulness, to speak truth to power. To live with love in a world awash in fear and grief.” Excerpt From: Susan J. Tweit. “Bless the Birds.” iBooks. https://books.apple.com/us/book/bless...
May 3, 2021
I finished reading Bless the Birds by Susan J. Tweit yesterday and had to give myself time to gather my thoughts after the emotional journey that book took me on. (I must confess that Susan and I have known each other for some time. I've read and admired her writings for years, and we trade comments frequently on each other's haiku posted daily on Facebook.) The book's structure is a charm bracelet, a stunningly beautiful bracelet with links made of pure gold forged from the honeymoon tour Susan and Richard take 29 years into their marriage because of Richard's terminal cancer diagnosis. The charms are her gemlike memories of their life together that add emotional depth and understanding to the book. Bless the Birds is a beautifully written memoir of living, loving, and dying with grace, in spite of, or perhaps because of its intense pain and loss.
May 21, 2021
That a man dying of brain cancer would repeatedly say, “I’m a lucky guy” is a tribute to the woman who took him on a 4,000 mile road trip and then wrote about it in this beautiful memoir. It’s their love story, full of honesty, joy, and heartbreak. Woven throughout their long-delayed honeymoon road trip from Colorado to the Pacific Coast—their last precious moments of “living in a time of dying”—is the story of their beginning, three decades before, as well as their journey from initial diagnosis of cancer, through grueling treatments, to their last days together. Yes, it’s tough to read in parts, but it’s well worth it. This moving memoir has important life lessons to share and lovely writing about nature, love, and loss.
August 2, 2021
The writing is wonderful - I was not surprised to see that several of her friends are some of my own favorite authors – the late Kent Haruf, Jane Kirkpatrick, Katherine Dean Moore. It's one of those books that having finished it, I wonder what on earth I could read next to follow it. Her story is very relatable for me as she talked about her and her husband's love of travel, a good road trip, their final journey hitting points along the Pacific Coast, and organic concepts of death and renewal of life that comes from some great spark. And finally, her life story and the ending with a brilliant man determined to explore and love as long as he possibly could.
May 17, 2021
This oddly wonderful book about living and dying kept me reading for five consecutive nights. Compelling in so many ways, Bless the Birds is a love story, a story of dying, of unselfish--and selfish--love, of commitment, courage, despair, community, and reinventing yourself.
Not least, the author’s deep abiding love for the Earth and its creatures have touched and inspired me to notice, to note and respect my own “Terraphilia,” a connection to the Earth “beyond the illusory boundaries of our skin.”
Not least, the author’s deep abiding love for the Earth and its creatures have touched and inspired me to notice, to note and respect my own “Terraphilia,” a connection to the Earth “beyond the illusory boundaries of our skin.”
March 17, 2022
Terraphilia. The word cannot be found in a general dictionary or easily online. As defined by Richard Cabe and Susan Tweit, terraphilia embraces all of life's many forms, from botanical to animal to human, recognizing the intrinsic affinity humans have with the earth itself. It is a recognition of the earth's role in sustaining life as we know it, in all its wonders and foibles. It embraces the sense of healing, that the earth is self-sustaining only if we humans take care of it and each other.
Susan J Tweit's memoir takes us on a personal, yet universal, journey no one signs up for: watching a once-robust spouse succumb to the deadliest form of brain tumor, glioblastoma. Had Richard not hallucinated birds that particular day—thousands of birds, minute and gigantic, everywhere, on every blade of grass, that seemed so real he reached out to touch one—his journey with glioblastoma would have been dramatically shortened. He would have succumbed quickly to the swelling in his brain without knowing what hit him. And there would have been no time to prepare to say goodbye.
Early on Tweit confesses, “Our days were about to get harder and more dear than we could imagine: The birds presaged a tumor growing in his right brain. A tumor that would kill him, though we didn't know that then and didn't believe it for far longer than the data warranted.”
The birds bought time. For Tweit, it bought more than two additional years to spend with and love the man she'd fallen in love with 29 years prior. Seeing the birds demanded an explanation; but going through the long, weary road traveled from denial to acceptance of the terminal cancer diagnosis proved to be a lesson for Tweit in accepting death just as much and as mindfully as she accepted life and love. Tweit's memoir has many lessons to impart, some told in rather scientific terms, others told in poignant, touching language. The personal becomes the political, and vice versa. At one point, she says, “The human capacity for optimistic denial is astonishing and persistent—as demonstrated by America's slow response to the coronavirus pandemic, and the mess Earth is in now.”
But the reality of her personal life had changed, and there was no denying it as she observed the dramatic and shocking changes her husband endured. Tweit and her husband made a conscious effort to live with love as their guiding light, even through the darker days. Hers is a story of adapting to the moment at hand: What is really happening, why is it happening, how can I help?
Tweit intertwines her story of facing her husband's death with the last road trip the two made, 4,000-mile, three-week drive through Wyoming, Idaho, Washington state, Oregon, San Francisco, and Big Sur. Final destination: hospice.
Along the journey, Tweit treats us to some exquisitely described scenery of natural wonder, gracing the end of many chapters with an original haiku summing up the moment at hand, usually one of wonderment, but at times of grief.
Although one knows going into this book that the love of her life would succumb to his insidious brain cancer, Tweit's approach—and her husband's, as well—of being as mindful and loving as humanly possible through it all resonates the most. Tweit's story is masterfully told, while breaking and mending the heart simultaneously.
Story Circle Book Reviews thanks Paula Shaffer Robertson for this review.
Susan J Tweit's memoir takes us on a personal, yet universal, journey no one signs up for: watching a once-robust spouse succumb to the deadliest form of brain tumor, glioblastoma. Had Richard not hallucinated birds that particular day—thousands of birds, minute and gigantic, everywhere, on every blade of grass, that seemed so real he reached out to touch one—his journey with glioblastoma would have been dramatically shortened. He would have succumbed quickly to the swelling in his brain without knowing what hit him. And there would have been no time to prepare to say goodbye.
Early on Tweit confesses, “Our days were about to get harder and more dear than we could imagine: The birds presaged a tumor growing in his right brain. A tumor that would kill him, though we didn't know that then and didn't believe it for far longer than the data warranted.”
The birds bought time. For Tweit, it bought more than two additional years to spend with and love the man she'd fallen in love with 29 years prior. Seeing the birds demanded an explanation; but going through the long, weary road traveled from denial to acceptance of the terminal cancer diagnosis proved to be a lesson for Tweit in accepting death just as much and as mindfully as she accepted life and love. Tweit's memoir has many lessons to impart, some told in rather scientific terms, others told in poignant, touching language. The personal becomes the political, and vice versa. At one point, she says, “The human capacity for optimistic denial is astonishing and persistent—as demonstrated by America's slow response to the coronavirus pandemic, and the mess Earth is in now.”
But the reality of her personal life had changed, and there was no denying it as she observed the dramatic and shocking changes her husband endured. Tweit and her husband made a conscious effort to live with love as their guiding light, even through the darker days. Hers is a story of adapting to the moment at hand: What is really happening, why is it happening, how can I help?
Tweit intertwines her story of facing her husband's death with the last road trip the two made, 4,000-mile, three-week drive through Wyoming, Idaho, Washington state, Oregon, San Francisco, and Big Sur. Final destination: hospice.
Along the journey, Tweit treats us to some exquisitely described scenery of natural wonder, gracing the end of many chapters with an original haiku summing up the moment at hand, usually one of wonderment, but at times of grief.
Although one knows going into this book that the love of her life would succumb to his insidious brain cancer, Tweit's approach—and her husband's, as well—of being as mindful and loving as humanly possible through it all resonates the most. Tweit's story is masterfully told, while breaking and mending the heart simultaneously.
Story Circle Book Reviews thanks Paula Shaffer Robertson for this review.
June 1, 2021
Uplifting memoir about dying teaches us how to live
Susan Tweit has written a stunning, poetic book about living and walking mindfully with those who are dying; an uplifting account of the two-plus years that she and her husband Richard lived with the knowledge that he was dying of brain cancer. Uplifting because Susan lets us in not only on the times that she succeeded at her intention to “live with love” as Richard slowly succumbed to the cancer, but on the times she failed. In doing so, she accepts herself for being human, and models how to do that for all of us. We need this book, since we’ll all be taking this journey with our loved ones eventually if we have not already.
Susan, as Richard’s care-giving, Buddhist/Quaker partner, reports honestly, thoughtfully, and humorously about how she fiercely protected their time—to be in their beloved outdoors and with each other, and for Richard to sculpt—as much as possible, even as she stayed in denial about Richard’s approaching death as long as possible. As a writer, she prepares us for his death tenderly and expertly. The book’s graceful structure interweaves a three-week long-delayed honeymoon driving trip that Susan and Richard took near the end of his life, their backstory, and the progression of their lives and the disease from the time they found out he had cancer to the death we know is coming. Both Susan and Richard are so endearing that we want to travel this journey with them, cheering them both on, learning as much as we can about how to live with love with the people we are loving right now. We can find comfort in how well Susan and Richard walked into his death together, and ponder how we can also “choose to lead with our hearts and dance our best steps along the way—hard as that may be.” In their very human relationship, they show us the kind of life, and death, that is possible. I savored this book—there was so much wisdom, heart, and honest living on every page. I wanted it, and Richard’s life, to go on and on. Blessings to Susan Tweit for this gift of a memoir.
Susan Tweit has written a stunning, poetic book about living and walking mindfully with those who are dying; an uplifting account of the two-plus years that she and her husband Richard lived with the knowledge that he was dying of brain cancer. Uplifting because Susan lets us in not only on the times that she succeeded at her intention to “live with love” as Richard slowly succumbed to the cancer, but on the times she failed. In doing so, she accepts herself for being human, and models how to do that for all of us. We need this book, since we’ll all be taking this journey with our loved ones eventually if we have not already.
Susan, as Richard’s care-giving, Buddhist/Quaker partner, reports honestly, thoughtfully, and humorously about how she fiercely protected their time—to be in their beloved outdoors and with each other, and for Richard to sculpt—as much as possible, even as she stayed in denial about Richard’s approaching death as long as possible. As a writer, she prepares us for his death tenderly and expertly. The book’s graceful structure interweaves a three-week long-delayed honeymoon driving trip that Susan and Richard took near the end of his life, their backstory, and the progression of their lives and the disease from the time they found out he had cancer to the death we know is coming. Both Susan and Richard are so endearing that we want to travel this journey with them, cheering them both on, learning as much as we can about how to live with love with the people we are loving right now. We can find comfort in how well Susan and Richard walked into his death together, and ponder how we can also “choose to lead with our hearts and dance our best steps along the way—hard as that may be.” In their very human relationship, they show us the kind of life, and death, that is possible. I savored this book—there was so much wisdom, heart, and honest living on every page. I wanted it, and Richard’s life, to go on and on. Blessings to Susan Tweit for this gift of a memoir.
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May 27, 2021It is often said that if you want to make the gods laugh, tell them your plans. That is certainly the case for Susan, a nature writer and scientist, and her sculptor husband. They have an enviable life together in which they share their love of nature, support each other’s creative endeavors, and participate in mindfulness meditation and living practices. They are committed to what they name terrophilia, a love of the earth and awareness of the interconnectedness of living things, and have been granted a joint artist residency that will allow them to manifest their shared vision. But intentionality does not guarantee predictability or stability, and when her husband has vision of birds that turns out to be an signal of brain cancer, their philosophy of living is put to the test. As his brain begins to deteriorate and despite the torture of numerous medical tests and surgeries, this couple sets out on an extraordinary journey of the heart as well as the road, determined to meet a death sentence with grace and love. Interspersed with poems and lyrical reflections, this book is as much a guide for how to live as it is a testament to the possibility of mindful dying.
January 28, 2023
Tweit ’s journey is deeply personal. As a wife, lover, botanist, and caregiver, her story is not just a telling, but a showing of loss, grief, and ultimately, forgiveness. This moving memoir chronicles not only her husband’s challenges of how he lives with brain cancer, but also her own struggles with being his caregiver, beginning with his imaginative sighting of birds that becomes a recurring reference throughout. As told in chapters of miles driven on a road trip, their journey does not come to an end upon returning home, but a continuation with the cycle of living after death. With vivid imagery and attention to settings, Tweit speaks from the heart in prayer where love and passion for life, and for her husband, travel together in this meaningful story of wisdom and life lessons learned.
Perhaps one of my best quotes (and there are many!) from this memoir: “ . . . as an example of something positive we can do: live with love for all, and “lean in” to nature, the community that birthed our species.”
Perhaps one of my best quotes (and there are many!) from this memoir: “ . . . as an example of something positive we can do: live with love for all, and “lean in” to nature, the community that birthed our species.”
April 20, 2022
Susan Tweit's latest memoir is a deeply touching account of a final odyssey taken with her dying husband. Her story is a testament to the importance of living life each day with gratitude in your heart. Ms. Tweit is the recipient of multiple awards, most recently the coveted Sarton award for memoir for this book. What a well deserved honor it is too!
One of my favorite lines from her book is this:
"I turn to poetry the way I suppose some turn to prayer, as a way to express wonder and gratitude, explore what I do not understand, or comfort myself when the vastness of existence becomes overwhelming."
Her writing is so heartfelt and beautifully reflective, allowing the reader insight into what sustained her and what might sustain YOU when times get tough. I'm thankful that she wrote it and can share her experiences with the world!
One of my favorite lines from her book is this:
"I turn to poetry the way I suppose some turn to prayer, as a way to express wonder and gratitude, explore what I do not understand, or comfort myself when the vastness of existence becomes overwhelming."
Her writing is so heartfelt and beautifully reflective, allowing the reader insight into what sustained her and what might sustain YOU when times get tough. I'm thankful that she wrote it and can share her experiences with the world!
February 26, 2023
This memoir tells the sad story of the author’s husband and their engagement with his brain cancer and last two years of life. It reads like a blog. The level of minutiae she includes would read better in blog installments versus continuously in a book. What comes through, even from a quick read, is the enormous task of being a caregiver for someone who is dying.
I was most interested in her final chapter - her life after his passing. In fact, it warranted more than a short epilogue in my opinion, because after decades of marriage to one person it can be a challenge to figure out who you are alone. I read on her website blog that since his death 10 years ago she moved from state to state enough times to make you dizzy, trying to find her real home. And she found herself in her late 50’s after he died in debt and needing to make money. I think there’s another book here!
I was most interested in her final chapter - her life after his passing. In fact, it warranted more than a short epilogue in my opinion, because after decades of marriage to one person it can be a challenge to figure out who you are alone. I read on her website blog that since his death 10 years ago she moved from state to state enough times to make you dizzy, trying to find her real home. And she found herself in her late 50’s after he died in debt and needing to make money. I think there’s another book here!
October 5, 2022
I heard Susan J. Tweitt being interviewed for Bless the Birds before it was published. I ordered her new book the minute it came out. I looked forward to reading it straight through, but it took three weeks because I had to take breaks to cry.
I just re-read it after finishing my own death memoir. I love the odometer structure of the chapter headings and the brilliant carnal images of plants and birds. Tweit manages chronology better than anyone I’ve read; a brilliant narrative structure of a belated honeymoon road trip allows her to move back and forth through time. As Tweit relives the joy of her family and marriage, the reader momentarily forgets about the harshness of the deaths. Incredibly, she manages a happy ending with a calm acceptance of inevitable and necessary death.
I just re-read it after finishing my own death memoir. I love the odometer structure of the chapter headings and the brilliant carnal images of plants and birds. Tweit manages chronology better than anyone I’ve read; a brilliant narrative structure of a belated honeymoon road trip allows her to move back and forth through time. As Tweit relives the joy of her family and marriage, the reader momentarily forgets about the harshness of the deaths. Incredibly, she manages a happy ending with a calm acceptance of inevitable and necessary death.
September 3, 2022
I heard Susan J. Tweitt being interviewed for Bless the Birds before it was published. I ordered her new book the minute it came out. I looked forward to reading it straight through, but it took three weeks because I had to take breaks to cry.
I just re-read it after finishing my own death memoir. I love the odometer structure of the chapter headings and the brilliant carnal images of plants and birds. Tweit manages chronology better than anyone I’ve read; a brilliant narrative structure of a belated honeymoon road trip allows her to move back and forth through time. As Tweit relives the joy of her family and marriage, the reader momentarily forgets about the harshness of the deaths. Incredibly, she manages a happy ending with a calm acceptance of inevitable and necessary death.
I just re-read it after finishing my own death memoir. I love the odometer structure of the chapter headings and the brilliant carnal images of plants and birds. Tweit manages chronology better than anyone I’ve read; a brilliant narrative structure of a belated honeymoon road trip allows her to move back and forth through time. As Tweit relives the joy of her family and marriage, the reader momentarily forgets about the harshness of the deaths. Incredibly, she manages a happy ending with a calm acceptance of inevitable and necessary death.
April 30, 2022
Susan J. Tweit has written a beautifully woven then and now story. Her words are an inspiration of how humans can aspire to live a best life rather than succumbing to death before its time. The author's botanist background brings our suffering and living planet to the story, alongside her living while dying husband. The story is told with the rawness of exhaustion and sometimes impatience of caring for a loved one, side-by-side with their ongoing love and respect for one another. Highly recommended.
November 7, 2022
Bless the Birds is haunting and powerful memoir, a tragic slice of real life. Beautifully written, it made me hold on to my husband tighter while also knowing no one is immune (as no one gets out of here alive). Tweit gives us a close up view of love and loss. She’s not afraid to show us her heartbreak along with her challenges, including her moments of utter frustration with the love of her life as he slowly loses all capacities. Tweit grounds Bless the Birds in the arms of nature as she also fights for the earth’s survival, painting vivid scenes that will linger with you for a long time.
June 14, 2021
“…grief is in part the measure of our love. The greater the love, the stronger and longer our journey with grief. Time wears away the sharpest edge of loss, but grief is a trickster, surprising us at unexpected times and in unexpected forms. Grief is a process, not something you can postpone or ‘get over’; you can’t rush through, skip or bypass it. You live with it and eventually live beyond it, riding the currents of life.”
December 31, 2021
Susan J. Tweit’s life took a heart-wrenching turn when Richard, the love of her life, started seeing thousands of birds. From that day forward, they embarked on what would become their final journey together. They set out on a second honeymoon, traveling thousands of miles navigating a whirlwind of fear and anger, occasional laughter, and strength, but most all, love. Such a compelling read, I couldn’t it put down. If you haven’t read Bless the Birds, I highly recommend it.
May 29, 2022
A woman’s memoir about living, caretaking, loving, and dying. Tweit chronicles her husband Richard’s sudden brain cancer and weaves that journey into their travels, visits with family and friends, and careful observance of nature. Richard’s mantra: “I’m a lucky guy;” Susan’s more like, “I don’t have to be perfect; I simply have to be the best me I can in any given moment.” A heartbreaking and heart-filling story, beautifully rendered.
July 22, 2022
If I could give this book a hundred stars I would. It’s true, it’s a story of love and a beautiful reminder to be present in our lives, no matter how difficult the present is. It will make you feel, contemplate, and most likely shed a lot of tears. I have so much gratitude for Susan for writing and sharing this piece, as it made me take a step back and look at my own life and relationships. A book and story I will cherish and be sure to share with everyone I know.
November 11, 2023
I came to this book afer reading, many years ago, Barren, Wild and Worthless a very good book of reflections on living in the Chihuahuan Desert, the desert where I live.
I expected it to be a bird book which, in fact, it somehow is. However the main theme, death and loss is told in a straightforward yet caring and loving way.
I loved this intimate memoir although it is not an easy read, at least emotionally-
I expected it to be a bird book which, in fact, it somehow is. However the main theme, death and loss is told in a straightforward yet caring and loving way.
I loved this intimate memoir although it is not an easy read, at least emotionally-
February 25, 2024
An Incredible Book
This is an amazing story about life noting that death is a part of
living. The reading of this book brought me feelings of hope, of
renewal, and the reminder of the power of love. The book reveals the power of nature, of friendships, and of creativity. I highlighted several passages and journaled others. It is a book that resonated with my soul. It is a must read.
This is an amazing story about life noting that death is a part of
living. The reading of this book brought me feelings of hope, of
renewal, and the reminder of the power of love. The book reveals the power of nature, of friendships, and of creativity. I highlighted several passages and journaled others. It is a book that resonated with my soul. It is a must read.
May 12, 2021
Infused with love and bursting with poetry, Tweit's memoir takes readers on a poignant journey as she supports her husband from the first sign of his illness through his last breath. The couple's fierce love for each other, their connection to nature and their Buddhist/Quaker philosophy give this memoir a rare vibrancy, both numinous and luminous.
August 8, 2021
There is no surprise ending here. There is truth and grace and excellent writing. There is a reminder that everyday, no matter how shitty it can be, has moments that are worth remembering and holding onto. There is a reminder that no matter how bad things can get, and they can get pretty damn bad, we can all do our best and sometimes 'best' fails.
October 7, 2022
I found the book hard to follow with all the jumping around in time. I also got tired of the author's description of her husband's urinary incontinence. I found it disrespectful to his memory. It seemed like she was just pointing out what a great wife she was. I think saying that it was something they had to go through would be fine but not every time he peed on himself.
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