Learning how to grieve has been a strange experience. I have so many questions. Where do people go when they die? Do they sleep until the last judgment? Will we all wake at the same time?
Can she see us? Is she close to us? These are things I still don’t know.
I’m learning to trust that death is not the end of relationships. That while they might be different, they’re not over. That, as T. S. Eliot said, “The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.” That they can pray for us, and even more powerfully than they could on earth.
But I’m still not resigned to the reality of death. It is a curse, at least for humans, an aberration in the natural order. Yes, we all go into the dark. We lose our bodies, for a time. We’re separated from those we love. A veil is between us.
But it wasn’t supposed to be. And it won’t always be.
It isn’t just. It isn’t right.
So I wanted to share this poem, as a reminder of just how much is lost in death.
Dirge without Music
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Sketches By Boze 
I knew I recognized the title of this post. I love Millay.
You are brave for writing—for feeling in the face of everything.
Thank you, Tineke. I don’t FEEL brave. But I know that the experience is shaping me in ways I’m probably not even aware of.
Your posts are helping to remind me that terror is not meant to be a part of our faith in God. That constant nagging feeling “but are you really saved?” is not of the Lord, it is not of our faith and hope in Christ. The perpetual guilt I feel over stupid things I did in high school or elementary school although I repented long ago, is not of the Lord. These things are the things that drag me down, that keep me from seeing the beauty of Christ’s gift of grace. I realize that taking my time and seeing the beautiful things in life, taking in each moment, and loving unconditionally are all I can do. I can’t save the world, I cant change what people think, but I can try to live life to its fullest, and demonstrate love to everyone, especially those I know I will never be able to change.
Exactly! : ) I’m so glad my stories could have helped you to embrace life more