Funeral Blues

I am going to a funeral today.

No one likes going to funerals. No one enjoys them. No one looks forward to them. You are saying goodbye to someone you knew. Cared about. Loved.

I am going to a funeral of a child today.

I didn’t actually know Brady. His mom is the younger sister of a friend of mine from high school. My sister is friendly with Brady’s mom.

Brady was 3 and a half. His death was an accident. A sad, horrible accident.

He leaves an older brother and a brother to be born next month; his mom and dad; several aunts and uncles and cousins; grandparents on both sides and even great-grandparents. He was cute and lively and a little bit devilish.

I am going to a funeral today.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

    -- W.H. Auden

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