It’s Wednesday in a slow moving week which for me, started with the death of a young relative aged 24 from cancer. Her final moments were difficult and I find myself struggling to let go of the images my mind conjured upon hearing what happened. I have only met her once a few years ago when everyone thought her cancer was in remission. I guess death has brought relief not only to her own suffering but also those who have had to be there for her and endure the many years of feeling helpless.
But still, to die so young seems unfair and cruel. Unfair in that she has been denied the chance to see and experience so much. She had dreams of her own; things she wanted, places to go, people to meet. And cruel in that that her release from life was accompanied till the end by just suffering. I cry for her parents who must bear this loss of a child who has departed before them. I feel also for her siblings who carry on in life into old age without her. She will eternally be 24 years old.
This afternoon, as I worked at my desk in the office my elderly aunt dropped by for a visit. And as we chatted about our lives, she asked if I had heard of a poem by William Henry Davies entitled “Leisure”. I said ‘no’ and she proceeded to recite it for me.
It goes like this -
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
I let the words settle in my mind. We both looked out the window at the river and the slow boats cruising past. Watching the currents, we each lost ourselves in our own thoughts.
As she approaches her 70th year and I, my 36th I’m sure we both appreciated the poem in different ways. Or perhaps the same way. For her, it may be with a tinge of regret for a life that could’ve been lived differently; of decisions that should have been made the other way or not made at all. Time was once a companion to her, who told her wonderful stories of tomorrow and promised her hope. Time was her age, a young lady full of energy and curiosity. Time would hold her hand and run ahead of her, pulling her, giggling as they both explored the many rooms in which Life resides. But as Age creeps in, Time fades away as a friend. No longer are Time’s stories full of wonder for her book is almost at an end. The pages left are not many. She can only turn the pages back and see the memories of those promises – some of which are broken.
I asked her to recite the poem again. And I paused to reflect deeper.
The boats continue to go past my windows. Two pigeons perch on the ledge. One pecks at the glass pane.
And yes, I see it.
There are now three of us in the room.
There, silently sitting beside my aunt, I see her old friend – Time. The beauty of this poem and her recollection of it must’ve been whispered to her gently by none other than Time herself. She is kind today. She lets go of my aunt’s arm and allows us this short moment to appreciate the present, our Now. She smiles and leaves us alone. Timeless.
I look back at my aunt. She tells me, “One day at a time. That is enough.”
She’s right.
This is my second book by Mary Roach. The first being Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers which I read a few years ago. I’ve also read a few articles by Ms Roach on and off in various publications such as GQ and Readers’ Digest and find her writing style humourous and engaging. It’s stand up but in a book, so to speak.
Six Feet Over (in the UK) is published as Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife in the US – a title I think is more accurate and less misleading. Let me elaborate.
Firstly and personally, the topic of the afterlife is something that appeals to me. If you’re familiar with me, then you’ll know that I’ve written pieces on the paranormal on the Readingmonk.com based on my personal experiences. Hence, when I saw Six Feet Over, I thought it’d be a book on ghostly spectres and hauntings, or communications with beings from the other atmosphere. You know, something dramatic and spooky.
Though it does cover topics such as seances and voices of dead people recorded on tape, Ms Roach’s discussion of these don’t really go the direction I was hoping for. Instead, her approach is more scientific albeit in her trademark off-beat style. There is nothing here resembling any of the Ghost Hunters or Most Haunted tv episodes. To each his/her own, and I suppose Ms Roach’s angle would suit some of us just fine.
In Six Feet Over , the topics of discussion range from reincarnation, the weight of a soul, ectoplasm, communicating with the dead to bizarre incidents of scientists attempting to find the human soul inside a spermatozoa using microscopes and scalpels.
I found the discussions just too heavy and protracted in some parts. Meaning to say, boring. And there are more of these bits than there are the fun or dramatic bits. The chapters are inundated with historical facts and quotes from scientific journals; quite heavy reading (and at times, irrelevant) for anyone who’s just looking for a scary tale.
Again, to be fair, this is a good book if you’re into the science of these phenomenons – which is excellently covered by Ms Roach. For me, it was akin to buying a ticket for a roller-coaster ride only to have all the excitement fizzle out by an hour long explanation by the technician of how the roller-coaster works. But like I said – to each, his or her own.
I give this is 3. Know what you want. The title is a bit misleading. Funny in general.
Besides Stiff and Spook, Mary Roach is also the author of Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Sex and Science which I will also review in due course.
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