Sorry, but death does indeed have dominion
“Every time somebody dies, it diminishes me a little.”
So said my late mother-in-law a number of years ago after the death of yet another of her siblings.
There was wisdom in her words. While we still soldier on for as long as we are allotted, whenever somebody goes out to that big ‘whatever over the other side’ we are left with just a little less of who we are. I didn’t appreciate my mother-in-law’s words back in the mid-1980s when I was still, relatively speaking, a bit of a pup. Now I do. I do in aces. And I don’t much like it.
A favorite aunt of mine just died, I found out yesterday. I was very saddened by that. She wasn’t even a blood-relative, but was married to my mother’s brother. But, she was the neatest damn lady. I hadn’t seen her much in recent years, but that was OK. It was my childhood memories of her that counted.
Whereas my parents virtually epitomized dysfunction and harshness at far too many levels, Aunt Joi was just the cat’s ass. She was a pretty, kind of plump blonde lady was a wonderful laugh. My uncle, her husband, was also a favorite and one of the most genuinely funny human beings I’ve ever known.
They raised a great family of three sons and a daughter. And their kids are all successful and happy and still on their first marriages and not fucked-up on drugs or booze ore serial philandering or any of that stuff. They are people who genuinely loved their parents and they will miss their mother painfully.
By contemporary standards, my aunt wasn’t terribly old. She was 78. And she lived a good and healthy lifestyle, so in a way it seems unfair. And I find it equally unfair, from a selfish perspective, that she’s not still around.
I feel a bit diminished today; a little less secure, and a little less sure about it all. But, that is life – and death.
“Death shall have no dominion,” said Dylan Thomas.
Dylan Thomas was a talented sot who died at 39. If he’d lived a few years longer he would have realized that death indeed has dominion, in fact it is the only surety.
Bummer, that.
posted by Ian Lidster at
3:36 PM
6 Comments:
it's interesting, isn't it Ian? i think the idea of invincibility goes right along with that quote. there are times i still feel it, but in the past year it's diminshed - not 'cause i don't believe it but because i've watched so many people die.
never ceases to amaze me.
AM
No, 78 is certainly not old nowadays. I'm saddened that somebody you'll miss is gone.
first, let me say i too am sorry for your loss. now, never having met you i have something else to say........
WTF??? i now have something else to think about! sigh....
btw - nice blog! come for a visit to mine if you like. bee
sometimes we look at the person's number of years on earth and determine that he/she was so young. but some people live such complete lives, that when they leave this earth, they've accomplished so much more than some who are still around.
my husband was 36 yrs old when he died. i remember thinking i was too young to be a widow at 33. i definitely thought he was too young, but those are just my thoughts. we all have a time to live and a time to die, so we must make the best of our lives while we're living.
i'm sorry about your loss too ian. i don't think it's selfish at all to want our loved ones to live longer; it's our humanness. and i think that's ok.
one of my neighbors, 32 yrs old, was buried last week. she was very well spoken of by her church family and friends. she lived the life while she was here--very self-less, always doing for others what she could, even thru her own sickness. and people said she never complained. so her life spoke for her during her death, if that makes any sense. none of us are exempt from death here on earth, but while we're here, i think what we do is important.
Hullo! Reading this post brought to mind something from 1967. My sister and I (aged 8 and 7 resply.) were being looked after by my father's parents, while our parents were away abroad. We were as troublesome to an old couple as one could possibly be. Then my grandfather fell ill. Then his mother passed away. And while preparations were being made for the associated ceremonies, our dog died. The servant told us this as soon as we returned from somewhere. Grandmother heard this, quietly, and made her way upstairs. Then she collapsed in unstoppable grief: "Dead, dead, dead. Everyone is dead. This brother dead. That brother dead. The next brother dead..." And so on... I can't forget that pit of grief she fell into. But she lived a long life, giving much grandmotherly love to her grandchildren. Best, rama
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