Mourning the World

In April 2025, I watched the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral for the umpteenth time. I found tears rolling down my cheeks as one of the characters read the poem “Funeral Blues,” written by W.H. Auden, at the memorial service for his partner. What sparked the tears? The poem tells of the emotional devastation of losing a loved one. But for me, it highlighted my distress at knowing that all that brings me happiness—Elaine, my kids, my larger family, my friends, the community that has become HumbleDollar—would soon be taken away from me.

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 wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

I’ve scheduled this piece to appear after my death. I’m not afraid of dying. But the idea of not living, and missing out on all the joys that life offers, fills me with sadness.