No Vacancies.

Darndest thing happened last night.

Chip said he wanted to read me a bedtime story. He looked so sincere, what could I say?

So last night, he was the father and I was the son. He watched as I flossed and brushed, and waited while I settled under the blankets, finding my spot.

He sat on the edge of the bed, took out a couple sheets of printer paper, announced, When Death Comes, by Mary Oliver, and started to read in his small voice:

When death comes...
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.*

Then he made me close my eyes and listen as he read it again.

Next thing I knew, dawn was on the curtains. I had slept the night through. I woke rested and calm and at peace.

How did that happen? After all my sleepless nights, all my metaphysical strike outs, one little poem read by my son changes everything.

Go figure.

Maybe you need more than prayer and philosophy when facing Death. Those are the basics, good in most situations. But sometimes prayers bounce back. Sometimes philosophy rings hollow.

Sometimes you need something else. Maybe a joke, or a battle cry, music or a poem. Some other kind of reminder spoken in someone else’s voice.

A whisper not your own. A whisper to live, live, live, because when you lease all the rooms of your mind to Life, there’s no vacancy for Death. When you wrap both your arms around the waist of Living, Dying can’t get close to your heart.

Here’s to you, Life.

* From When Death Comes, by Mary Oliver, from New and Selected Poems (Beacon Press).

Comments

Media Jean: Wow, he got a lot more out of that poem than I did.

Chip: Yeah. I’m not even sure what it’s about. I just found it online and it sounded kinda comforting.

Media Jean: You know he’s gonna ask you about it.

Chip: Yeah. He’ll want to know what I think the poem means.

Media Jean: Well, what do you think it means?

Chip: I’m not sure. I like “cottage of darkness.” That doesn’t sound scary at all.

Media Jean: I think it means don’t capitalize Death.

Chip: Ha ha! Lower case death. That makes me think of the Grim Reaper wearing short pants.

Media Jean: It’s like Voldemort in Harry Potter. Wizards calling him “You Know Who” and “He Who Must Not Be Named.” Give me a break! That just made everyone more afraid of him. Harry and Dumbledore had the right idea.

Chip: My dad likes Harry Potter.

Media Jean: Tell him to stand up to death the way Harry stood up to ol’ Snake Face. Stand up for life and love and friendship and truth and all that jazz.

Chip: All that jazz. That’s funny.

Media Jean: Maybe we should get him one of those Harry Potter wand remotes, so every time he watches TV he’ll feel like a wizard.

Chip: Ha ha! That’s a great idea!

​Comic strip from the series "Bedtime Stories"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 1: Look Out, Tomorrow, Here We Come!)

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