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"Say not in grief that she is no more, but say in thankfulness that she was. A death is not the extinguishing of a light, but the putting out of the lamp because the dawn has come." ~ Tagore


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November has always had a certain melancholy about it, despite being a month full of birthdays -- my father's, Len's, my brother-in-law's, and mine. Our celebratory joys continue to be tempered with sad news. 

Tuesday, another of my aunts in Hawai'i passed away. Aunty Ellen was my mother's older sister, and she died almost exactly a year after we lost Aunty Ella. So a fresh grief has arrived before we've even had the chance to fully process the other.

And you probably remember my blogging about Len's cousin Liz, who at this posting, is barely clinging to life, like the very last leaf on the branch. So, I've been asking myself, what is it about November? 

Some come, and some go. A time of reckoning as the year ends.



With Thanksgiving just a week away, thought I'd share a poem which offers a philosophical brand of gratitude, a celebration of the seasons which reassures us that no matter what happens in our mortal lives, a greater power is at work, and the earth will continue to turn.

The essence of "giving thanks" seems to intensify with age, the scope widening to include miracles in the vast world around us, as well as the small, everyday things we too often take for granted. For me, this Thanksgiving will be a time to celebrate and express gratitude for the lives of three women -- one who passed last year, one who died this week, and one who is at this moment navigating her unique passage into immortality.

THANKSGIVING SONG
by Br. David Steindl, Rast O.S.B.

As the Great Dynamo who powers the wheels of seasons and years
Turns autumn once more into winter,
At this season of Thanksgiving,
We give thanks for all seasons.


algo/flickr

For winter, who strips trees to their basic design,
For stark, minimalist winter,
We give thanks.
May we let go, and grow bright as stars in a clear, frosty night,
The more we are stripped of what we thought we could not do without.


LHDumes/flickr

For the springtime that bursts forth,
Just when we think winter will never end,
For irrepressible springtime
We give thanks.
May we never forget the crippled, wind-beaten trees,
How they, too, bud, green and bloom,
May we, too, take courage to bloom where we are planted.