I've come to realize that I truly appreciate death as much as I appreciate life. Death and human reaction to death fascinate me.
As a child I watched as our paternal relatives passed from this life before they reached an earthly old age. I grew accustomed to the vigils, the rituals, the grace of the act of dying, and the peace exhibited by those left behind. These were life lessons taught at an early age. I remember asking my Dad if the rapid succession of deaths at such early ages made him sad. He responded that his family was all passing on to the life we were all born to enjoy. We live our lives in a manner that will enable us to enjoy an afterlife with our savior. If we live our lives as good people then when one of our family passes, there are no regrets. If we love and are loved, we have fulfilled our earthly purpose. Faith in the unknown. Love of God and each other. No regrets, no guilt. He lived it and it showed in everything he did. Death was just one phase of life.
Last night, I sat and sorted old pictures and papers that have not yet been packed away after my Mom's death 10 months ago. I came upon a folder full of cards and letters my mother received at my dad's passing in 1976. What a wonderful evening of remembering the importance of a hand-written note, of feeling my Dad through the words of others, and of wondering how often my mother had drawn comfort from those letters over the 35 years between his passing and hers. Each time, I'm sure my Dad was present in her mind's eye, in her heart.
So yes, I greatly enjoyed the evening. Then I saw a note from Marie S from Lockport. I don't know Marie - I imagine she had a work association with my Dad, maybe through her husband. Marie expressed many of the same sorts of kind words others expressed in their letters, but she also included a passage that had provided comfort at the passing of a loved one. A little research reveals the passage was part of a sermon delivered by the author, Henry Scott Holland, in 1910, at the passing of Edward VII. It reads:
"Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the
next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I,and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched,unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of 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 that 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 an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? 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 round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"
"Death is nothing at all" is exactly what my Dad tried to teach us by example. But the sermon was more. I think back to my last conversation with my mom.
"I'll be leaving you now."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm just going to the next room. I love you."
It was all there - peace, acceptance, love. Maybe she was well-familiar with Henry Scott Holland, maybe it is an evolution, maybe when you are at this point you can see the next room, or maybe she was just being Margaret. The wonderful part is this -death does change nothing. Margaret and Jack and the others who have passed from this life are forever here - as long as we are here. As long as there are people left who have been touched by those who pass before us, as long as there are memories and love, then it is as Holland wrote, "One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"
As a child I watched as our paternal relatives passed from this life before they reached an earthly old age. I grew accustomed to the vigils, the rituals, the grace of the act of dying, and the peace exhibited by those left behind. These were life lessons taught at an early age. I remember asking my Dad if the rapid succession of deaths at such early ages made him sad. He responded that his family was all passing on to the life we were all born to enjoy. We live our lives in a manner that will enable us to enjoy an afterlife with our savior. If we live our lives as good people then when one of our family passes, there are no regrets. If we love and are loved, we have fulfilled our earthly purpose. Faith in the unknown. Love of God and each other. No regrets, no guilt. He lived it and it showed in everything he did. Death was just one phase of life.
Last night, I sat and sorted old pictures and papers that have not yet been packed away after my Mom's death 10 months ago. I came upon a folder full of cards and letters my mother received at my dad's passing in 1976. What a wonderful evening of remembering the importance of a hand-written note, of feeling my Dad through the words of others, and of wondering how often my mother had drawn comfort from those letters over the 35 years between his passing and hers. Each time, I'm sure my Dad was present in her mind's eye, in her heart.
So yes, I greatly enjoyed the evening. Then I saw a note from Marie S from Lockport. I don't know Marie - I imagine she had a work association with my Dad, maybe through her husband. Marie expressed many of the same sorts of kind words others expressed in their letters, but she also included a passage that had provided comfort at the passing of a loved one. A little research reveals the passage was part of a sermon delivered by the author, Henry Scott Holland, in 1910, at the passing of Edward VII. It reads:
"Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the
next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I,and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched,unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of 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 that 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 an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? 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 round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"
"Death is nothing at all" is exactly what my Dad tried to teach us by example. But the sermon was more. I think back to my last conversation with my mom.
"I'll be leaving you now."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm just going to the next room. I love you."
It was all there - peace, acceptance, love. Maybe she was well-familiar with Henry Scott Holland, maybe it is an evolution, maybe when you are at this point you can see the next room, or maybe she was just being Margaret. The wonderful part is this -death does change nothing. Margaret and Jack and the others who have passed from this life are forever here - as long as we are here. As long as there are people left who have been touched by those who pass before us, as long as there are memories and love, then it is as Holland wrote, "One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"
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