Thinking about Death, is not something I do on a regular basis, but I have read and remembered what others have written on the subject. Mainly I remember the poets. Poets have a way of eulogizing almost anything - I often read "To A Mouse," which contains probably the saddest lines in all literature -
"The best laid schemes o' Mice and Men gang aft agley
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain for promis'd joy."
But, I digress. I was writing about a poet's distillation of Death. Here are some of my favourites.
Because I could not stop for Death -
He Kindly stopped for me -
The Carriage held but just ourselves -
Death be not proud, though many have called thee
Mighty and Dreadful, for thou at not so;
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
and my favourite
Do not go gentle into that goodnight,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Someone asked me once, how I thought I should die. I said I just want to hit a brick wall at full speed. My mother died dancing. We were celebrating my father's 90th birthday. She was wearing her sparkly dress, her silver dancing shoes; she had her make-up on, her hair done, in fact, she looked like a million bucks at 83. After the anniversary waltz and a fast jive number, she was two steps into a tango when she died in my father's arms. We were all there to see her go. She was always a bit of an actress and I won't say it was staged, but it was a convincing performance!!
Well, February 1 is Imolc, often celebrated in Celtic mythology as the first day of Spring - the rebirth. Ogden Nash had a great retort for someone worrying about growing older. He said, "How old is Spring, Miranda?"
The pictures? Many reasons to send flowers
Have a lively day!