peace

In January, Andy's grandmother passed away. She was 92. Alzheimer's disease had been stealing her away bit by bit for a few years. Her passing seemed gradual, like she was fading away. The goodbye was gentle. Expected.

In January, our friends had a beautiful, perfect baby. She was born still. Silent. This tragedy was unexpected. Unpredictable.

Today Andy is attending a funeral. The wife of his dear friend passed away after a long and courageous battle with cancer. She leaves behind an adoring husband and three beautiful children and many, many friends and loved ones. She leaves behind a legacy of cheerfulness and smiles and faith and hope.

And so death has been on my mind lately. My mom has spoken at several funerals (she has a knack for it) and she always shares this poem by Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933).

Parable of immortality ( A ship leaves . . . )

I am standing by 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 peck of white cloud
just where the sun 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 places 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!'


This poem is so comforting, and I feel the truth in it. Death isn't the end of these lovely people.

I have birthed three beautiful children, and when they arrive, I am always amazed at the recognition I feel. I know them the instant they appear. I know them from long ago... we are familiar friends. And those beautiful infant faces always have some ancient wisdom mingled with the freshness. Birth is a bit like death. It's the ship just appearing on the horizon and saying "Here she comes!" And a joyful arrival into the arms of loved ones.

I like to think about the happiness and celebration on the other side. Just as these people slip away from us, they make their arrival into the arms of those who have gone before. Families are forever. And there is much joy and love on the other side.

And just out of our view, Janet is remembering every detail or every story she told, and Olivia is giggling and wiggling like a baby should, and Catie continues to smile.