I just received word that Edna passed away. All at once I feel sadness and joy.
Perhaps this poem explains why:
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads
her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her
until at length she lands like a speck of white cloud just where
the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There! She's gone."
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was
when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load
of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished
size is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when
someone at my side says, "There! She's gone," there are
other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to
take up the glad shout, "There she comes!"
And that is Dying!
Perhaps this poem explains why:
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads
her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her
until at length she lands like a speck of white cloud just where
the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There! She's gone."
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was
when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load
of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished
size is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when
someone at my side says, "There! She's gone," there are
other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to
take up the glad shout, "There she comes!"
And that is Dying!
