A non-Elegy and Rossetti
Each generation is marked by an event that it considers is a milestone. To my grandparents it was the bombing of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii; to my parents, it was when a young American president was assassinated in Texas; to a majority of those that belong to my generation it would be 9/11, New York City. It is a point in our lives that make us halt the routine of our daily lives and contemplate on our mortality.
On a perfect sunny September morning, with the accompaniment of a lone violist, the names of those who periled in the attacks were recited by relatives along with personal messages of love and yearning. Then in a pool at the footprint of the towers, roses were floated, prayers said and again, the tears. Grief, renewed.
I wonder - do we do these rituals to comfort the living? Would this kind of remembering be what those who have died wanted? And do they hear our messages of love, smell the flowers that we bring to their graves and hear us ask for forgiveness after they have gone?
Death is the only certainty about life. When it is my time to face my final curtain, I hope it will be quick. I always ask for good health when I pray because I fear burdening those I love about taking care of me as I slowly and painfully slip out of dignity and of life. I don’t want a major production to draw my life to a close. My siblings know that my wish is to be cremated and so I shall be, with my ashes returned to the earth. Throw them to the sea so that there is not one place to remember me if there should be reason to.
And on remembering: remember me as how I laughed, how I have loved with all my heart until there was nothing more to give; for trying to give as much as I could and not with the value of what I could give.
I don’t want tears - for any reason. Not for forgiveness because most likely I would have already forgotten, if not forgiven. I do not carry bad thoughts with me – my secret to a happy life. So that given, your thoughtlessness and evil ways is your burden alone and not mine. No tears for remembering either because I have lived a wonderful life. I have, at this point, had more dreams come true than I ever imagined possible and whatever else the future holds would be icing to the cake.
I don’t want eulogies nor tributes. I don’t want people talking about me as though I was dead. I would like to leave as though I was the breeze, having passed through, bringing a moment of pleasant comfort and then gone.
I have a favorite poem by Christina Rossetti, one I have memorized even when I was young, that seems apt with this entry:
On a perfect sunny September morning, with the accompaniment of a lone violist, the names of those who periled in the attacks were recited by relatives along with personal messages of love and yearning. Then in a pool at the footprint of the towers, roses were floated, prayers said and again, the tears. Grief, renewed.
I wonder - do we do these rituals to comfort the living? Would this kind of remembering be what those who have died wanted? And do they hear our messages of love, smell the flowers that we bring to their graves and hear us ask for forgiveness after they have gone?
Death is the only certainty about life. When it is my time to face my final curtain, I hope it will be quick. I always ask for good health when I pray because I fear burdening those I love about taking care of me as I slowly and painfully slip out of dignity and of life. I don’t want a major production to draw my life to a close. My siblings know that my wish is to be cremated and so I shall be, with my ashes returned to the earth. Throw them to the sea so that there is not one place to remember me if there should be reason to.
And on remembering: remember me as how I laughed, how I have loved with all my heart until there was nothing more to give; for trying to give as much as I could and not with the value of what I could give.
I don’t want tears - for any reason. Not for forgiveness because most likely I would have already forgotten, if not forgiven. I do not carry bad thoughts with me – my secret to a happy life. So that given, your thoughtlessness and evil ways is your burden alone and not mine. No tears for remembering either because I have lived a wonderful life. I have, at this point, had more dreams come true than I ever imagined possible and whatever else the future holds would be icing to the cake.
I don’t want eulogies nor tributes. I don’t want people talking about me as though I was dead. I would like to leave as though I was the breeze, having passed through, bringing a moment of pleasant comfort and then gone.
I have a favorite poem by Christina Rossetti, one I have memorized even when I was young, that seems apt with this entry:
“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
Haply I may forget”P.S. I am healthy, I am happy, I am not depressed and am NOT even with a hint of sadness. This entry is just a reflection about death so don’t email me with concern, no?