Oh, Death

It seems weird to be writing again so soon but Pete decided to replace is laptop since he will be gainfully employed come Monday and bequeathed his old one to me. It makes it much handier for me to blog while watching TV so my goal is to put something in here each Thursday night. We'll see how long I last. Here goes.

Lorna's head-on collision Tuesday night got me thinking about how fragile our grip is on this mortal existence. Maybe it's because of my current position on my own time line, I don't know. I became acquainted with death at a very early age as I attended the funerals of my grandparents and various uncles and aunts. Going to them had profound effect on me. Such that, as a seventh-grader I was upset by a poem that our teacher had us read that I felt made light of death. The only line I remember is: "Death is here, death is there, death is (something) everywhere." It bothered me enough that I wrote my own poem about death. It was nothing when compared with poetry that Bonnie or my Mom could write but it expressed how I felt at the time. I certainly didn't know when I wrote it how soon I would have t deal with the death of my Dad. I titled it "Death's Sweet Sleep." Here it is as best I remember it:

"Death comes calling at my door,
Taking loved ones as before.

When they are gone I grieve and weep.
So many now are lost in sleep.

Oh, that I could taste of death's sweet sleep.
No more to have to grieve and weep
for those I've loved who've tasted death.
Then to breath my one last breath.

Then to breathe again a purer air,
Air with a fragrance beyond compare.
To see again the ones I love
And dwell with the in our home above.

But I must stay to grieve and weep
For loved ones lost in death's sweet sleep."


It seems strange to think of that again after so many years and funerals. Now I find myself reading the obituaries to the point that I even check the online ones in my home town newspaper, the Blackfoot News. I feel like George Burns who said he would read the obituaries every morning and if he didn't see his name, he'd have breakfast...