Having been away on holiday it gave me lots of time to think. My mum kept coming to my mind, she died a few years back. This reminded me of a poem about death I found in her purse - where she knew I would find it. It was handwritten and I had no idea at the time who it was by. I have since learned that it was written by Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral, London.
As I felt I was meant to find the poem I included it in her funeral service. Today I felt that I should publish the poem, perhaps it is meant to help someone with their loss.
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped away into the next room,
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
that we are still.
Call me, by my old familiar name.
Speak to me,
in the the easy way you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
What is death, but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you,
for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is past; 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!
It also got me thinking about how many people we all are. The photo of my mum at the top of the post shows her in 1939 and the one below is on her 80th birthday. Her smile was the one thing that remained constant.
Our loved ones are always with us.