Light

"When light returns to its source, it takes nothing of what it has illuminated."  ~Rumi

Grief

I can't make the BBC embed code work with WordPress, but here's the link:  LINK

If you have eight minutes, it's a really helpful little video.

I can't be funny.

This is an excerpt of a letter Will Rogers wrote about the death and funeral of his sister Maude sometime in the early 1920s.  The sadness is compounded because the poor man felt he had to hide from his public persona.

From Will Rogers: His Story As Told By His Wife, by Betty Rogers, © 1941:

Today, as I write this, I am out in Oklahoma among my people, my Cherokee people, who don't expect a laugh for everything I say.

That silent prayer that those three hundred ministers uttered didn't save my sister. She has passed away. But she had lived such a life that it was a privilege to pass away. Death didn't scare her. It was only an episode in her life. If you live right, death is a joke to you, so far as fear is concerned.

And on the day that I am supposed to write a humorous article, I am back home at the funeral of my sister. I can't be funny. I don't want to be funny. Even Mr. Ziegfeld don't want me to be funny. I told him I wanted to go. He said, "I would hate you if you didn't." I told W.C. Fields, the principal comedian of the show. He said, "Go on. I will do something to fill in." Brandon Tynan, my friend of years, said, "Go home where you want to be and where you ought to be."

I have just today witnessed a funeral that, for real sorrow and real affection, I don't think will ever be surpassed anywhere. They came in every mode of conveyance, on foot, in buggies, horseback, wagons, cars and trains, and there wasn't a soul that came that she hadn't helped or favored at one time or another…

Some uninformed newspapers printed: "Mrs. C.L. Lane, sister of the famous comedian, Will Rogers." It's the other way around. I am the brother of Mrs. C.L. Lane, the friend of humanity. And I want to tell you that, as I saw all those people who were there to pay tribute to her memory, it was the proudest moment of my life that I was her brother.

And all the honors that I could ever in my wildest dreams hope to reach would never equal the honor paid on a little Western prairie hilltop, among her people, to Maude Lane.

If they love me like that at my finish, my life will not have been in vain.

Silence

“When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it’s completely silent. You would think that for something so important, it would make the loudest noise in the whole world, or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a symbol or the ringing of a bell. But it’s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain.”  ~Cecelia Ahern, If You Could See Me Now (via)

I have always thought death would be easier to accept if it were accompanied by a clap of thunder and an orchestral flourish.

The aching begins with the horrible silence.

Dawn

 

Death is not extinguishing the light
It is simply putting out the lamp
Because the dawn has come.

~Rabindranth Tagore

"No need to fear it…"

[embed]https://youtu.be/p3jfGWEaSoI?t=19s[/embed]

What I love about Ringo is that he doesn’t hide what he wants to say beneath layers of cryptic metaphors. It’s a certain courage you don’t find often.

Anyway, this is a song about death that always lifts my spirits.

Full lyrics HERE.

"I can forgive them…"

Excerpt from Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor, ©1985

Given Back

Excerpted from The Holy Man by Susan Trott ©1995:

Chapter 8:  Grieving Man

"I have lost my wife,"  he told Joe (the Holy Man) when Joe invited him to sit down.  "She has been taken from me.  She is gone.  I loved her so much.  Now I will never see her again."

"Did she die?"

"Yes, that is what I am saying.  She is gone."

"Well, she could have left.  That would have been worse.  Then you would still never see her again but have to suffer the added pain of rejection.  But this is very sad.  I am sorry that you had to give her back before she gave you back."

"I beg your pardon?  Give her back?"

"Yes, you are adding to your grief by being such a victim.  If you say to yourself that you have given her back, you will feel better.  Because, you see, she was never yours.  Nothing that you have is yours.  It never was yours."

"But that's crazy, my possessions are mine.  My children are mine.  And my wife…"

"No, they are not yours.  Only you are yours.  Not your possessions, not your children, not your wife.  You will have to give them all back.  You do not get to keep any of them."

On Silver Wings

[embed]https://youtu.be/U201dUetbAU[/embed]

Last night I dreamed our neighbor had big silver Angel wings, and was ascending to heaven in a bright  column of light.  I was waving at her, no sadness, and shouting "Goodbye, Shera!  Thanks for coming!"

I know it wasn't a Vision From on High.  I was thinking of this song and of her before I fell asleep, and my subconscious mind merged the two.

But still, that's not a bad way to think of her.

Euthanasia

[embed]https://youtu.be/Ezyd40kJFq0[/embed]

May you always do for others
And let others do for you

It's the second line that's the hard one.

I don't know how I feel about euthanasia.  I have a basic reverence for life that screams "No!", but…

Our neighbor across the street is dying.  She's just a shell now; her body lives on, but her spirit has already passed.  She may already be gone as I type this.

I know that if euthanasia was legal and easily obtainable she would have taken the tablets herself six weeks ago.  This isn't how she wanted to go out.

But I've also seen the steady stream of friends and family that have come in to take care of her.  It's an honor and a privilege to be able to care for someone you love.  It will be a comfort for them to know that they did all they could for as long as they could.  That's important.  I wouldn't want to take that away from them.

Which brings me back to: "I don't know how I feel about euthanasia."

(Full lyrics at BobDylan.com, by the way.)

I'll see you on the other side

Our culture doesn’t accept death gracefully.

Dylan Thomas famously advised:

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Death notices frequently contain the phrase “lost his fight,” as if death were a defeat, a moral failure of some sort.

I watched our friend and neighbor being loaded into an ambulance this afternoon.  She had wanted to die at home, but I guess things changed.  I could see the twinkle was gone from her eyes already, the spark of exuberance that defined her is gone.

She had a good life.  She’s ready to go.

And I hope she goes gentle into that good night.