Reading Between the Lines

My apologies (to anyone who actually reads this) that I have been MIA this week. My Gran passed away on Friday and we have been inundated with MD relatives who were clamoring to get their last goodbyes in. Seeing as there are three of us installed down here now, we can literally house the entire family and only a few visiting friends had to stay in hotels (lucky them!). So now that they have left, leaving me amidst piles of dirty sheets and dishes, I am finding time to mourn my Gran the way that she would want...quietly, hehe. For a woman who had 7 children, she had a great appreciation for peace and tranquility, and I am sure that she is checking in on me from heaven in my solitary moment, telling me how very happy she is that she can silently observe the family without having to actually listen to them (for they are quite loud).


My Gran taught me many things, mostly by example, and had many qualities that I try to embody. She, in her calm and patient way, inobtrusively taught lessons that I will keep with me always. She had a true appreciation for nature, and it's inherent, vital significance to each of us. She tried to see the beauty in each day, and told me that she thought that the sunbeams that sometimes filter through the clouds in their yellow shafts must surely be a sign of God. She taught me to be quiet and listen, to stop moving and see; she gave me my first lessons on how to love animals, whether they be dog or snail. She taught me to press flowers and to love, love, love books. My house will forever be filled with plants and novels, and figurines and flowers, because of my beautiful Gran.

(At Jack's 2nd Birthday party, with daughters Susan and Claudia.)

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.

*** Text from a sermon written by Henry Scott Holland and delivered in St. Paul's (London) on 15 May 1910, at which time the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster.