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I want to say, if only... If only Michelle had taken better care of herself, we might not be deprived of her presence today. But "if only" did not come to pass and while I mourn our loss, I celebrate that fact she has now risen beyond our mortal limitations to a far better existence. I just wish I could talk to her one more time to let her know how she was loved. This poem, written centuries ago, speaks to the eternity of our lives, of Michelle's life.

Death Be Not Proud

by John Donne

(1572-1631)

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,

For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

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As will Minya wake eternally.

From AnnisXXII