Those we love, never really leave us…
I have always believed that, long before I ‘heard’ Prof Dumbledore utter the words as I scanned them on the page. The people we love do not leave us, one way or another they stay with us, in our minds in our hearts. Some stay for longer than others, some leave a deeper impression, but they all stay. No matter what, they all stay.
For some of us, we are privileged enough to be able to tap into certain things after the fact, it’s times like these that I use that privilege, or at the very least, I attempt to.
I received an email this morning telling me that one of my favourite uncles has passed gently to the other side of the veil after a long and painful struggle with Parkinson’s and the resulting infirmity brought on by such a condition. He has been in a home for some time and unfortunately we knew this was coming, it was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but a matter of ‘when’. While this is very sad indeed for those of us left behind, I can’t help but feel that in some cases – like this one – death is just like going to sleep after a long long day. He was in a great deal of pain, and his true self had long since departed for parts unknown. Or known, depending on what you believe.
None the less, I wish he could have held on just a few more days so that I could have said goodbye, and thanked him for all the smiles and rueful laughs he gave me over the years, but I have to believe that things happen for a reason…perhaps not in the sense of some great divine plan, but a reason none-the-less.
People leave, they move on, and those of us that remain move on as well. My aunt is being remarkably stoic about all this – I suspect she, as a nurse herself, is probably simply doing the next thing. I wonder when and if she’ll allow herself to grieve, but grief comes in different ways and different forms, and who are we to judge other people’s methods of survival.
For my part, I will go out on deck tonight, and rest my elbows on the rail, and look out at the stars, and say my goodbyes, and remember that the words of one of my very favourite poems, which I once read at my Gran’s funeral what seems like a very long time ago:
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight . . . that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
there are other eyes watching her coming . . .
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout . . .
” Here she comes! “
– “A Parable of Immortality”, Henry Van Dyke
this really made meleak ….dad
Thank you spec. You have a gift of words. Maybe that is why you never stop talking
LLLM