indeed

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,	5
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,	10
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die John Donne i only know a small handful of people who have not lost someone close to them. and even these very fortunate few have still experienced death in some way. i will not in any way qualify the experience of loss by saying it is more meaningful when one's spouse dies as opposed to, say, one's great aunt. it's the nature of the relationship that informs the degree of pain, i believe. i can distinctly remember and still feel the difference between losing my mother and losing my uncle bobby. both were young- they were both 38 years old when they died. i loved both, obviously. however, the experience of losing my mom is still an ongoing one, whereas losing my uncle was one huge and hurtful shock. i stayed in a place of disbelief about uncle bobby dying for far longer but once i accepted his death, i had the ability to understand life without him. this is not the case with my mom, however. ingrid michaelson sings a song called "the chain" in which she ponders life after someone she loves has left her and she says the truest thing i can think of regarding these deep losses: "My room seems wrong. The bed won't fit. I cannot seem to operate and you, my love, are gone...." life continues on without my mom here, which is one of the oddest things to me about losing her. i can remember the day she died and the nurse who turned off her life support wearing these bright purple clogs. all i could think was, How can someone be wearing these happy shoes? My mom is dead and there is a nurse still walking around in these purple shoes who will probably leave work and drive home and maybe talk on the phone with her friends and get dinner and continue with her happy, purple-clog wearing day..... i couldn't stop thinking about those shoes and the fact that everywhere that day people were walking in their shoes and making plans and laughing and eating and ordering coffee and cleaning their houses and living. and my mom wasn't. it didn't make sense to me then and there are so many days when life doesn't make sense to me still, all because my mom is not in it. life continued even after the person who gave me life was gone....for a long while, this depressed and saddened me more than i could ever articulate. death was this big, horrifying demon that destroyed life. it took away my own mother, which was so cruel to me. i was overwhelmed and frightened that God could just take out anybody else he wanted to in my family, like God and Death were partners in this cruelty. death seemed so unfair and so predatory and i was bound to this kind of taunting, harsh reality that death wins out, no matter what. . . . it was my dad, oddly enough, who told me something one day which i will always remember and which gave me peace. we were talking about my mom dying and how everyone dies and he told me, "elizabeth, i'm not scared of death. what's to be scared of? it's as natural as life. it's just a walk across the street is all. it's like walking across the street. . . ." happy easter to all. He has risen indeed<3