I was 18 when my grandfather died. I remember sitting with my grandmother in his hospital room. We sat together watching him breathe. Suddenly, overcome with emotion, she gasped, “I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”
Completely taken aback, I hugged her and said something like, “It’s going to be alright. We’ll all take care of you.”
I understand now what she meant.
This excerpt from Milton’s Paradise Lost is a description of Eve describing her love for Adam. It reminded me of that moment with my grandmother when it seemed she suddenly realized nothing would ever be the same for her.
With thee conversing, I forget all time,
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun
When first on this delightful Land he spreads
His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow’r,
Glist’ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming-on
Of grateful Ev’ning mild, then silent night,
With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon,
And these the Gems of Heav’n, her starry train:
But neither breath of Morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow’r,
Glist’ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night
With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon,
Or glittering Starlight without thee is sweet.
Poetry Tuesday is a [new] weekly feature in which I share a bit of poetry I’ve read this week.