Blogger: Janet Kobobel Grant
Memorial Day, a day for remembering the passing of loved ones and of those who fought in battles–who died not knowing and perhaps not caring about the fighting’s outcome. I find it hard to move past the significance of the day to talk about publishing or writing careers. Instead, my mind and heart turn to those who have gone before us.
Emily Dickinson wrote this tribute to those we miss:
If anybody’s friend be dead,
It ‘s sharpest of the theme
The thinking how they walked alive,
At such and such a time.
Their costume, of a Sunday,
Some manner of the hair, —
A prank nobody knew but them,
Lost, in the sepulchre.
How warm they were on such a day:
You almost feel the date,
So short way off it seems; and now,
They ‘re centuries from that.
How pleased they were at what you said;
You try to touch the smile,
And dip your fingers in the frost:
When was it, can you tell,
You asked the company to tea,
Acquaintance, just a few,
And chatted close with this grand thing
That don’t remember you?
Past bows and invitations,
Past interview, and vow,
Past what ourselves can estimate, —
That makes the quick of woe!
And so we remember.
What will you do today to remember?
Love this, Janet. What a poignant, lovely remembrance.
Thank you, BJ. It spoke to me of the uniqueness of each loved one lost.
I’ve never heard that poem of hers. Thanks for posting it.
We’re off to a church camp today. They’re dedicating a new building in memory of a family from our church that worked at the camp a lot over the past fifty years. I guess we’re remembering spiritual warriors who’ve gone before us.
And a worthy remembrance that is, Sally.
I am a fresh 10 weeks out from losing my brother. The poem describes many of my moments of remembering.
Then this is a bittersweet day of remembrance for you, as it is for me.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Olivia. Thank you, Janet, for sharing that poignant poem. To mark the day, I wrote a post about war literature that have made an impact on me, at the Writing North Idaho blog.
Writing our own poems is a good way to corral our remembrances. Thanks for sharing yours.
*has* made an impact. Coffee’s brewing slowly today.
GOD’S FOREVER SOMETIME
In God’s forever sometime, one life is but a moment,
A dot, a blink, a blip in time continuum
In God’s forever sometime, the planets cascade across the heavens,
The stars wink and blink, the sun rises and sets,
Seasons come and seasons go
But man has only one lifetime to live, to love, to marry.
To have children, who have children; connected like a chain
to one another by smiles and tears, hugs and caresses.
But man is tissue, blood and bone and these things are not forever.
One day we live… and then no more….
In God’s forever sometime, he lives on,
reaching across the millennium of time,
through day and night, through dark and light.
To love and comfort, and heal our broken hearts ….
And for those of us who loved him
His life will not be forgotten.
Elaine, thank you for this comforting poem.
I wrote it some years ago for a passing relative and have had the opportunity (if I should use that word) to share it on a number of occasions since. It still seems to fit, even when remembering our fallen veteran heros.
A beautiful tribute. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing, Janet. I’ve never read this poem before. It is poignant.
Remembering my son’s brothers-in-arms that died in Iraq and Afghanistan today. All of our soldiers. May we never forget that freedom isn’t free.
Today we are spending the evening with another family we knew when my husband was active duty USAF. Looking forward to relax and remember time together.
So sorry for the loss of your brother, Olivia.
Kathy, the memories of those losses are fresh. It’s nice to share the day with those who understand.
Our culture, even our church culture, tends not to want to talk much about loss, even on a day of remembering. I’m glad you could share your heart with us today, Janet.
Diane, I so agree that we need to be honest about loss and how it leaves a gap in our lives until eternity.
Got choked up reading that poem:
Their costume, of a Sunday,
Some manner of the hair, –
A prank nobody knew but them,
Lost, in the sepulchre.
Such power wrapped in words. Thank you. And I have no doubt you feel every word.
Blessings. Bill