Thanks in old age—thanks ere I go,
For health, the midday sun, the impalpable air—for life, mere
life,
For precious ever-lingering memories, (of you my mother dear
—you, father—you, brothers, sisters, friends,)
For all my days—not those of peace alone—the days of war the
same,
For gentle words, caresses, gifts from foreign lands,
For shelter, wine and meat—for sweet appreciation,
(You distant, dim unknown—or young or old—countless, unspecified, readers belov’d,
We never met, and ne’er shall meet—and yet our souls embrace,
long, close and long;)
For beings, groups, love, deeds, words, books—for colors, forms,
For all the brave strong men—devoted, hardy men—who’ve forward sprung in freedom’s help, all years, all lands,
For braver, stronger, more devoted men—(a special laurel ere I
go, to life’s war’s chosen ones,
The cannoneers of song and thought—the great artillerists—the
foremost leaders, captains of the soul:)
As soldier from an ended war return’d—As traveler out of
myriads, to the long procession retrospective,
Thanks—joyful thanks!—a soldier’s, traveler’s thanks.

— Walt Whitman

 

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Thanks (writes the poet) for precious ever-lingering memories

of parents, family, friends

they make life precious.

And, from an exchange I had with a friend from the past yesterday:

ME

How many siblings were there including you? [Our parents were close. We were from different towns and didn’t know one another well.]

MY FRIEND

I’m #2 of 7

J—- #1 and S—- #3 are dead.

ME

very sad

about your brothers

MY FRIEND

Yes. But at least I had them in my life! …

Not sure if I’d be able to get out of bed if I thought it was a anything but a blessing to have had them, however briefly.

 

*****************************************************

Her words struck me. It may seem obvious. But my friend, their sister, puts it so well. I can hear Walt Whitman saying the same thing.

We mourn the dead. We were blessed to have had them. (I think of my parents, and so many others.)

Yes, existence in the here and now matters. But just as our life, everyone’s, our existence, is a miracle — people on earth — so was the existence of those no longer living: that they did live; and, in the case of our loved ones and friends, were part of our existence.

 

— Roger W. Smith

  February 27, 2023