Writing until the end

“The writing of a poem is, for me, an almost total act of abandon leading to discovery leading to recognition.”  – Marvin Bell.

Whether it was letters to friends, poetry, or essays, Jason and Nathan Bell vividly remember their father writing every day.

The poet often worked in his study upstairs, but when young Jason or Nathan would invite friends over to play, Bell worked in a small annex in the backyard. The space was used by the house’s original owners to give Mormon missionaries a place to stay.  There, Bell kept a second typewriter, and the Bells even installed a buzzer so Dorothy could notify her husband whenever he got a call.

After his sons had moved out, Bell wrote inside the house more often, penning his final collection of Dead Man poems on his MacBook at the dining room table.

The poet was collaborating with Merrill on their book, Here & Now, when the two conversed for the last time. The friends would often send one another paragraphs over email, and had a few exchanges on the day Bell told Merrill he had to go to the emergency room. Merrill had just sent him a new paragraph for the book.

“I love receiving each new para from you,” Bell had written back. “It defines the immediate future.”

A few hours later, Bell sent an email containing only one word after reading Merrill’s work, “Heartbreaking.”