My grandfather conintues to hold on.
This poem has truly helped me process the concept of death in healthy ways over the years. It feel appropriate to share it again now.
“Gone From My Sight”
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship, at my side spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until
at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says,
"There, she is gone."
Gone where?
Gone from my sight.
That is all.
She is just as large in mast, hull and spar
as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear
her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me --
not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout,
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying...
Keep peace and keep creating,
Parker <3
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