Oct 16, 2012
As she sits at our mother's deathbed, my sister recieved this piece from her dear friend, Pastor Cheryl Gosa
From Pat Robson's "A Celtic Liturgy" (HarperCollins, London, 2000)
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says "There she goes."
But she is just as large in mast and hull and spar as when she left my side and she is able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at that moment when someone says "There she goes" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout - "Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
by Henry Van Dyke