‘I’ve seen enough of death and dying to be of the mindset that each day should be a day of celebration and appreciation and gratitude. Celebrate life, appreciate friends and family, and be thankful for the chance to be a positive influence on others.’
MY father, when he was alive (well, naturally) loved to recite a poem from memory whose message befuddled me for so long.
I recall it now as I walk with some friends through the trying moments in life when a loved one passes away, eventually to fade into a mere memory.
Entitled “When I am Dead, my Dearest,” the haunting poem goes this way:
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
Written by Christina Rossetti, I only realized a few years ago that my brothers (or at least my older one) were also intrigued by the fact that this was one of our father’s favorites. But why? What did it mean?
After living through the death of my mother more than 30 years ago, and my father’s nine years ago, I’ve read and reread this poem with a new perspective. And it’s a perspective that I think I was fortunate enough to live by, when it mattered.
I’ve read this poem as a message from a loved one who is telling me that what matters is what I do while that loved one is alive. A rose planted at the head of a tomb or a tree planted to shade the tombstone will mean nothing to him or her who can no longer see the shadows, feel the rain or hear the nightingales sing.
In effect, it’s saying that if you want to bring me flowers, bring them to me while I can still see their beauty or bask in their scent. Make me smile or giggle or laugh; hop, skip and jump with me. No matter how impressive the shade tree that is planted at my grave, no matter how colorful the blooms of the flowers that line my cemetery plot, no matter how cheerful or beautiful the songs of the birds, all these would no longer mean a thing, because I am dead.
I’ve seen enough of death and dying to be of the mindset that each day should be a day of celebration and appreciation and gratitude. Celebrate life, appreciate friends and family, and be thankful for the chance to be a positive influence on others.
When I am dead, celebrate that we had a chance to become better people through our interaction, through our friendship.
