One is a former student who reached out to me after nearly 30 years to tell me that I had made a difference in her life. One is a Jewish friend who has adopted me and welcomed me into her home on ordinary days and High Holy Days, and one is someone I have known since both of us were in our teens. I’ll call the first one P because I have not asked permission to name her. I’ll call the second one S, and the third one L for the same reason.
P reconnected with me through Facebook and we have kept track of each other for several years now. Today P made a post that sent me scurrying to one of my notebooks. Actually, it’s an artist’s sketch book and, for me, it’s not quite a journal, not quite a scrapbook. It holds the important things that can be captured on paper either through words or images. I copied what P posted today, into my book on September 25, 2020, just after the death of feisty US supreme court judge, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. It is used in Reform Jewish Liturgy.
Meditations Before Kaddish
From the Mishkan T’filah
Epitaph
by Merrit Molloy
When I die give what’s left of me away
to children and old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
cry for your brother walking the street beside you.
And when you need me, put your arms around anyone
and give them what you need to give me.
I want to leave you something,
something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I’ve known or loved,
and if you cannot give me away,
at least let me live in your eyes and not your mind.
You can love me best by letting hands touch hands,
and by letting go of children that need to be free.
Love doesn’t die, people do.
So, when all that’s left of me is love,
give me away.
Today I needed to remember this. B’s mother died earlier this week at age 96. She lived a long and full life and there is relief in her passing. P and S are both wrestling with family issues, and I am feeling tired and worn down, for a host of small reasons.
Today the sky outside is a smokeless blue, the temperature is moderate, and I have made my first cup of tea at our new coffee station. We will soon be able to inhabit our new spaces and with that will come a purging of what no longer serves us from the past. We mourn not only people. We mourn experiences we will never have again, relationships that might have been different, and objects, once so important, that we will never use again. Perhaps as I go, unwillingly, through the collection of stuff, these words will help me to focus on what is truly important and allow me to let go of the rest. All things are no longer possible but there are still exciting possibilities. Perhaps “Epitaph” will help me achieve a balance between appreciating the past and anticipating the future.
May it be so.*
https://www.patrickcomerford.com/2020/01/when-all-thats-left-of-me-is-love-give
*The Reverend Erin Klassen of Scarboro United Church in Calgary often ends her messages with these words and I hope she won’t mind my borrowing them here.
From the Mishkan T’filah
Epitaph
by Merrit Molloy
When I die give what’s left of me away
to children and old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
cry for your brother walking the street beside you.
And when you need me, put your arms around anyone
and give them what you need to give me.
I want to leave you something,
something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I’ve known or loved,
and if you cannot give me away,
at least let me live in your eyes and not your mind.
You can love me best by letting hands touch hands,
and by letting go of children that need to be free.
Love doesn’t die, people do.
So, when all that’s left of me is love,
give me away.
Today I needed to remember this. B’s mother died earlier this week at age 96. She lived a long and full life and there is relief in her passing. P and S are both wrestling with family issues, and I am feeling tired and worn down, for a host of small reasons.
Today the sky outside is a smokeless blue, the temperature is moderate, and I have made my first cup of tea at our new coffee station. We will soon be able to inhabit our new spaces and with that will come a purging of what no longer serves us from the past. We mourn not only people. We mourn experiences we will never have again, relationships that might have been different, and objects, once so important, that we will never use again. Perhaps as I go, unwillingly, through the collection of stuff, these words will help me to focus on what is truly important and allow me to let go of the rest. All things are no longer possible but there are still exciting possibilities. Perhaps “Epitaph” will help me achieve a balance between appreciating the past and anticipating the future.
May it be so.*
https://www.patrickcomerford.com/2020/01/when-all-thats-left-of-me-is-love-give
*The Reverend Erin Klassen of Scarboro United Church in Calgary often ends her messages with these words and I hope she won’t mind my borrowing them here.
2 comments:
What a powerful poem. The lines, "And when you need me, put your arms around anyone /
and give them what you need to give me" and "So, when all that’s left of me is love,
give me away" spoke to me about giving as a way of healing one's grief.
For me it was "Love doesn't die, people do." I feel that so strongly as the people who knew my mother weaken with age. The next generation won't remember her but the love she gave and the humour she imparted to me live on. The new people remember me and through me her. Its not enough, I'll always want her to be with me, but its something for which I am eternally grateful. She made me a better person and through me perhaps others will be better, more able to love with true charity for the world around them. Thanks M
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