Dianna's Way - Book Tour Spotlight

Dianna's Way
by John Catenacci

Dianna is a young woman in her late 20’s when she meets John, a man in his late 40's. They fall in love and marry. A central feature of their life plan is to have one child to fulfill her fervent lifelong dream of being a mother.

Not to be.

Not long into their marriage, Dianna discovers she has an aggressive form of breast cancer.

Hand in hand, they begin a 17 year spiritual journey into the nature of love and healing. Along the way, she discovers and fulfills her life purpose and, in the process, takes John by the hand, gently helping him to reveal, then fulfill, his own.

In the beginning, John, being much older, thought he would be her teacher but gradually discovers in the most important dimensions of life quite the opposite is true. With Dianna’s guidance, he ultimately discovers we are all teachers, we are all students and we are all one.

Theirs is a story of courage, determination and a lightness of being, as they descend into the deepest valleys of crushing disappointment, pain and suffering only to rise again to ever higher peaks of appreciation, gratitude and love. Throughout it all, their journey is laced with light and laughter.

Even today, after her passing, they continue their relationship, piercing the Illusion that veils this reality, exploring its limits while continuing a spiritual journey without end.

The End of Something

     “Honey, why don’t we make love anymore?”

     We are in bed. Dianna is reading a book about healing cancer, while

I’m thumbing through a bird hunting magazine. Dianna lays her book

on the end table and rolls over toward me. I lay down the magazine, too.

She has my undivided attention now.

     “I think we make love every day in some way,” I say.
     “You know what I mean.”

     “Sex.”
     “Yes.”

     I let out a big sigh. We have not had sex since the transplant. I have

been thinking about this for quite a while, and nothing ever comes up

making sense to me.

     “Don’t you find me desirable anymore? Do you still love me?”

     “Do you actually have to ask me that?” I’m looking her right in the

eye. “I love you more now than I ever have.”

     “Well?”

     “I don’t have a way to explain it. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive

or desirable. It’s just with everything that has happened to us, to you, I

just…I don’t know what to say.”

      “It’s because I’ve lost my breasts, isn’t it. You never touch them

anymore.”

     “Well, honey, we’ve discussed that already. You’ve admitted you

don’t have any feeling there anymore. Why would I touch them? I don’t

fondle doorknobs, either. But, anyway, your breasts have nothing to do

with it.”

     “Then, what?”

     “The only way I can put it is, I love you very much, and more and

more with each passing year. But expressing my love for you in a sexual

way feels…I don’t know…just feels inappropriate somehow.”

     “Like you will hurt me or something?”

      “I guess so. No matter how much you love someone, if the person

you love is wounded and bleeding, you don’t try to have sex with them.

Feels… just doesn’t feel…right. You protect them. You care for them, not

have sex with them. Something like that.”

     “I’m not a cripple, you know. I’m not a piece of glass. I won’t break.”

     “I know that, honey.”

      “I’m a woman with womanly needs. I still desire you sexually. I would

love to have sex with you like a normal human being.” She slides her arm

under my arm. “I feel rejected. That hurts.”

     “I realize that. I feel terrible about it. Don’t you think I haven’t thought

about how much you’ve lost? You have lost your dream of having a child.

Now your menstrual cycles have ended, reminding you that all you are

going to get from now on is hot flashes instead of the child you so dearly

wanted. You’ve lost your breasts, a part of you, you were always so proud

of…, and you have lost your hair twelve times. You…”

     “Three times.”

     I laugh. Then, so does she, a little.

     “What I’m trying to say, maybe not very well, is I realize all these

losses assail your femininity, of what it means to be a woman, …and…

not having sex with your partner is just another thing piled on top of all

the rest. It’s the last thing you need to have happen in your life, right now.

I know I can’t feel what you feel exactly…, but I do understand these are

losses you deal with every day. That’s why it hurts me so much to be stuck

like this, this way.”

     “Then, I don’t understand why you would want to deprive me of this,

too.”

     My eyes are getting wet, and my heart is thick in my throat.

     “Believe me, if I could do anything about it, I would. I just can’t. Men

can’t fake it, you know.”

     “I don’t want you to fake it.”

      I put my arms around her and pull her close to me. I can’t stop the

tears now.

     “And so I don’t. I’m not faking my love for you, either. I would do

anything I know how to do for you. I do what I can. I’m so sorry, honey.”

      She starts to cry, softly, quietly, burying her head into my neck.

     “So am I,” she whispers.

     We fall into silence. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say. I

keep my arms around her, and she keeps her arm over me.

     We fall asleep that way.

The Beginning of Something Else

     The next morning, I get up, leaving Dianna still asleep, and go into the

kitchen to make coffee. My back is facing the hallway to the bedroom.

Suddenly I feel her arms around me as she lays her head sideways against

my back.

     “I know what love is, John.”

     “You do?” I ask without turning toward her.

     “Yes.”

     “Look at me,” she says.

     I turn around and look into her eyes. They look wet, but she’s

smiling. “Love is the way you are with me,” she pauses, then, in a more

perky tone of voice, “And the way I am with you, too.”

     Now I can’t help it. I fall apart. She wraps her arms tight around me

and I bury my head into her neck.

     “It’s going to be okay,” she says.

     “It is okay,” she says, then adds, “More than okay.”

     After a minute, she steps back and looks at me with a smirk on her

face. “Do you ever desire other women?”

     I think about that minefield, but decide to go ahead anyway. “Of course.

Once in awhile, I do. Some women are sexually attractive and, …and don’t

look wounded to me, I guess. Must be about a billion of ’em out there.”

     She smiles, gives me a little kiss on the cheek, then walks over to

the dining room window and looks out over the lake. Finally, she says

quietly, without looking at me, “Maybe one day, honey, you’ll see we are

all wounded.”

     I stop pouring water into the coffee pot in midstream, about to enlist

my skills in mental masturbation, when she darts away to a different

flower.

     “Oh, honey, I think it’s going to be a beautiful day today. In fact, I’m

sure it is.” She comes across the room and peeks over the bar. “Oh. Are

you making coffee for me?”

      “Everything is for you,” I say with a smile.

After spending his youth doing cement construction work while getting his education, John Catenacci earned a Bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering. He went on to work on the Apollo 11 Project as a member of the USAF in California, then  as an engineer for the Dow Chemical Company in Midland, MI, doing both process research as well as designing and building chemical plants.

Mid-career he became interested in group dynamics, leading to another 20-year career in team building that took him across the U.S., Canada, Europe and Saudi Arabia.

With a sprinkling of published short stories and articles in small magazines along the way, his abiding passion has always been writing, something now coming to fruition in this, his first book.  




John Catenacci's Web Site: (at this time, not yet live)
http://www.diannasway.com/

John Catenacci's Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/John-Catenacci/107719899384439

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Dianna's Way blog tour site:
http://diannasway.blogspot.com/