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Poetry: The Peace of Wild Things — 5 Comments

  1. Lovely poem. I feel your anguish for your mother, but try to turn the sadness into nostalgia. You mother has lived a full and exciting live .. before you were born and long after.

    When my Dad died at age 96, he was ready. He outlived two wives, three daughters, a grandson. Everybody he knew with the exception of his serving children were long gone. He had lost his eye sight, his sense of hearing and his mobility. But his mind never wavered and he was a living history book to the day he left. I learned more from him than I did in college, up to an including the PhD.

    When his time came, I knew I would miss him, but I also knew it would be selfish of me to keep him here for my own benefit.

    He lived every moment of his life with dignity and respect for others, the least I could do was to allow him to do the same in his death.

    I wish you the strength to carry on, no matter what happens or when.

    I suspect your motner will be saying, “It is a far better place I go than I have ever gone. It is a far better thing I do than I have ever done.”

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