by Alan Pierpoint
The disease that ravaged your body
Could never touch your soul.
Two days before the end
Voice down to a whisper
Soft as a baby’s breath, you said to me,
“The end is the beginning,
Are you okay with that?”
Your eyes opened. You wanted
an answer,
And I could not say the whole truth,
But only “If it must be.”
“It must be,” you said, your last gift to me.
Springing from such pure love and grace
That, at the end, your dying wish
Was to ease the suffering of others.
Dearest wife, forgive my weakness,
But the measure of love is the measure of grief,.
And my love for you is boundless and eternal.
So where can I turn, now that death has parted us,
To stop this never-ending flow of tears?
It is said that a prayer of thanksgiving
Is a complete prayer. Dear God, if you’re there,
Thanks be to you for my beloved Carolyn,
For our years together, for the miracle
Of her love for me. Take her
to that better place
And keep her, comfort her, judge her tenderly.
Grant me the courage to lead, in the time left,
A life worthy of that miraculous love.
And when the end comes, dear Lord,
Make it a beginning, and, I pray,
Bring me back to Carolyn.
My dear, beloved Carolyn.