When my mother passed away, I quoted this Maya Angelou passage at her service. When I think of death...I seem at peace with the idea that a day will dawn when I will no longer be among those living in the valley of strange humors. I can accept the idea of my own demise, but I am unable to accept the death of anyone else. I find it impossible to let a friend or relative go into that country of no return. Disbelief becomes my close companion and anger follows in its wake...I am besieged with painful awe at the vacuum left by the dead. Where did she go? Where is she now? Are they, as the poet James Weldon Johnson said, resting in the bosom of Jesus? If so, what about my Jewish loves, my Japanese dears, and my Muslim darlings. Into whose bosom are they cuddled? I find surcease from the entanglement of questions only when I concede that I am not obliged to know everything. In a world where many desperately seek to know all the answers, it is not very popular to believe, and then state, I do not need to know all things. I remind myself that it is sufficient that I know what I know, and know that without believing that I will always know what I know or that what I know will always be true. Also, when I sense myself filling with rage at the absence of a beloved, I try as soon as possible to remember that my concerns and questions, my efforts and answers should be focused on what I did or can learn from my departed love. What legacy was left which can help me at the art of living a good life? If I employ the legacies of my late beloveds, I am certain death will take itself and me as well. A brilliant, brilliant writer, poet, and soul whose voice will be missed!
Posted on: Wed, 28 May 2014 14:56:42 +0000
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