Sonnet
S died this afternoon at home. They were on the point of transferring her to hospital, so I'm glad her wish to pass away in her own house was met.
I spoke to her daughter this evening and put her in touch with the Minister who has agreed to us having the memorial service in her church. S asked me to see if I could arrange the use of the church without the preacher. She said she liked churches, but not religion!
So the service will hopefully be next Monday and we'll be reading Emily D, Roethke, Shelley, Shakespeare and Burns.
S. taught a class on Shakespeare and this is the sonnet we'll read:
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
I spoke to her daughter this evening and put her in touch with the Minister who has agreed to us having the memorial service in her church. S asked me to see if I could arrange the use of the church without the preacher. She said she liked churches, but not religion!
So the service will hopefully be next Monday and we'll be reading Emily D, Roethke, Shelley, Shakespeare and Burns.
S. taught a class on Shakespeare and this is the sonnet we'll read:
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
Labels: loss, Shakespeare, sonnet
posted by apprentice at
11:44 pm
4 Comments:
I'm sorry, Anna. That's hard.
Now she's at rest and the suffering has passed for her but for those left behind it must be a difficult, heart-breaking time.
That is a lovely sonnet to have chosen. It's peculiar how old griefs can sneak up on you unexpectedly. Such high art as that carries its fullest weight at times like these. I hope it affords you and S's family a little comfort as you grieve her.
I am so glad the daughter has you at hand to guide her and I hope you will be given strength to get you through the sadness.
Thank you both. It is hard, but I think facing up to death is the best gift cancer has given, it means I don't run for cover when I risk losing someone who is precious to me.
That's sad. The sonnet is so beautiful - the way it grieves but at the end, rejoices for what is never lost.
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