Thursday 22 May 2014

On the Wings of a Dragonfly; Mum


Late in the evening of Tuesday 20th May, Mum passed away after a sudden, brief and unexpected illness. We were there with her at the end, held her, told her how much we loved her; still she slipped away. 

To all things, their time.



Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, 
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes 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 effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute 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. 

Henry Scott Holland








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