Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.
-Henry Scott Holland
My dear roomie, Justina, gave me this poem as I struggle with death. Death and I really hadn't come in close quarters until I lost my aunt two years ago...I have been wanting to write about it...but I just haven't found the words...
Death comes into my lively world again with the news that a mentor of my youth will not defeat colon cancer that she has been fighting for a year and a half...and all the same feelings came back...its so final...so distancing...
until Stina gave me this poem
Thank you...and I am sure my mother thanks you as well as she reads this poem as well...I love you.