Visiting the Departed
Death is before me today:
Like the recovery of a sick man,
Like going forth into a garden after sickness.
Death is before me today:
Like the odor of myrrh,
Like sitting under a sail in a good wind.
Death is before me today:
Like the course of a stream,
Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house.
Death is before me today:
Like the home that a man longs to see,
After years spent as a captive.
Neil Gaiman, Preludes & Nocturnes (The Sandman, #1)
Dear Death,
I spoke to four dead men today,
Their graves next to each other in my grandmother’s garden
I loved them all to varying degrees in Life
I love them to even more varying degrees in Death
The first man I spoke to was my grandfather
The degree to which I loved and love him is small,
As small as his mindedness was
But I was glad to swing by and say hello
The second man was sort of an adopted grandfather, I guess
He hung out at my grandmother’s house a lot
We all just went along with it
We all went along till he just became part of the family
I loved him in a pleasant sort of way
I still do
He told utterly fantastic stories that you could tell he utterly believed
He had an old-man smell that I liked
The third man I spoke to was my uncle, my Malume,
My mother’s older brother
He gave me some of his OCD
When I shine shoes or iron shirts, I think of him
I loved him
Even though he always shouted at me
I miss him and I am mad at him
He died in such a stupid way
Tuberculosis!
Treatable
He just had to take his pills
The last man I spoke to was my Malume too,
My mother’s middle brother
I loved him very much
He didn’t deserve it
He was trouble wearing a charming smile
We were all at peace the day he died too young
In Death, we all love him more than we did in Life
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