A meditation on death

Don't be alarmed; this isn't going to be gloom and doom. In fact, we're going to talk a little poetry today.

My sister Sue found a copy of William Cullen Bryant's poem "Thanatopsis" in some of Dad's papers yesterday. I think Dad had talked to all of us about this recently. He had mentioned it to my sister Diana a while back, and she printed it out for him; he asked me if I'd ever read it, and I said yes, back when I was in school. He told me he'd been thinking about it a lot lately, and had read it several times. He had the copy with him, and asked me to read it, especially the last few lines. Here is the poem, with a few thoughts afterwards. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, but I do think it is a very nice piece.

THANATOPSIS

by: William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)

To him who in the love of Nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks

A various language; for his gayer hours

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile

And eloquence of beauty, and she glides

Into his darker musings, with a mild

And healing sympathy, that steals away

Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight

Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,

Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;--

Go forth, under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around--

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--

Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee

The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,

Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up

Thine individual being, shalt thou go

To mix for ever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock,

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

 

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down

With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings,

The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good,

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,

All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills

Rock-ribb'd and ancient as the sun,--the vales

Stretching in pensive quietness between;

The venerable woods; rivers that move

In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadows green; and, pour'd round all,

Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste,--

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,

Are shining on the sad abodes of death,

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread

The globe are but a handful to the tribes

That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings

Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods

Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound

Save his own dashings--yet the dead are there:

And millions in those solitudes, since first

The flight of years began, have laid them down

In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.

So shalt thou rest: and what if thou withdraw

In silence from the living, and no friend

Take note of thy departure? All that breathe

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh

When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care

Plod on, and each one as before will chase

His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave

Their mirth and their employments, and shall come

And make their bed with thee. As the long train

Of ages glides away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes

In the full strength of years, matron and maid,

The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--

Shall one by one be gathered to thy side

By those who in their turn shall follow them.

 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan which moves

To that mysterious realm where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

~~~~~

As I read this today, I was struck by those last lines all over again. Do I think that my Dad foresaw his own death? Oh, pshaw. We all ponder our own mortality, and when you get to be in your 80's, I'm guessing that you ponder it a little more often! Dad simply knew that he wasn't going to live forever, and I suppose with each passing day, he knew he was one step closer to the Great Beyond...as are we all. I love it that he stayed active up until the very end, and that he stayed sharp and able to appreciate this poem. As my sister Sue said, he lived until he died.

I also love it that he especially liked those last lines. This poem, to me and to my Dad, was not a sad musing on death. Although it speaks of the inevitability of it and how each and every one of us will experience it eventually, it also urges us to live, live our lives well and fully, so that when it comes time for our earthly exit, we can do so knowing that we did the best we could and that it is not only okay to move on, it is simply the way things work. There is nothing to fear, there is only the natural progression of the arc of our life.

I take great solace in knowing that my Dad was comforted by those last lines. I don't believe he feared his death, not one little bit. He was confident in the fact that although he may have made mistakes in his life, he had a good life with many adventures, a lot of fun, and much love. He was one of the Good Guys, and the sentiments I've heard from various people who knew him (including an ex son-in-law who said he still thinks of him as "Dad," even after about 30 years) bear that out. I know my Dad was proud of me for what I've done with my life, because he told me so many times. It makes me smile to say that I am also proud of him as I realize how many people remember him fondly and with love. What a remarkable legacy to leave behind.