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August 17, 2009

BREAK, BREak, break.

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote this poem over a hundred years ago about his best friend who died young. The children playing signifies how innocent and carefree children are, and as he points out the children, he gives an "oh, well", as in, "it's good that they get to live, but what about MY young friend who died?" I find myself thinking that way, asking myself why Shane had to die when it could have been any other child. Not that I would ever wish death on someone elses' family, but in grief sometimes my thoughts become selfish. I see so many people wasting their lives away on drugs and greed and power and wonder why it had to be Shane. I met people in high school who couldn't show respect if it was handed to them on a silver platter and I couldn't help but think of Shane's motivation, kind heart and fun-loving spirit.

God has numbered all our days before we were even born. He sees the whole trail when I can't see beyond the next step. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Tennyson uses the crashing of the sea to show that nature carries on without hesitation; it does not stop for a moment of silence in the midst of our nightmares. It does not care if we live or die. The waves still crash against the crags, grass still grows, seasons change. Even people move on, and the grieving are left with a day that is dead. Memories. Hopes. Longing.

Today's Song (you can find to the right): Until I See You Again, Mark Schultz

Even after 8 years, Shane, you are not even slightly forgotten. I watch home videos of you and it all comes flooding back and you are still alive, I know it, and you write letters in the sky that say "I love you". We love you too.



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