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For The Judge

Nov 29, 2017
by Caroline Miller
Do Not Go Gently into that Goodnight, Dylan Thomas, Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat, The wisdom of old age, What the old have yet to teach, William Falk
6 Comments

One of my gaggle of 3 older gentleman at the retirement center has died. (Blog 7/15/15) I feel his absence though I’d known him only a few months. He’d been a judge in his working life. His wife had died not long ago and he admitted he didn’t see much point in going on. The remaining two musketeers took his demise philosophically, one of them having been at his bedside when his friend passed. “It was a privilege to be with him at the end. A good man. A very good man.”

I agree and wonder that when a person, like the judge, is gifted and has his or her wits about them, society treats that individual like an obsolete toy and smiles to see him or her asleep in a sun lighted chair. Feeling pointless isn’t a condition of old age; it’s a sentence imposed by society. As one of the remaining three admitted when he left to have lunch with his son’s in-laws: “I like to go there. They accept me.”

The wistfulness of those words set my bones on fire.   “Grave men, near death see with blinding sight.” (Dylan Thomas, “Do Not Go Gently into that Goodnight.”) Why should the wisdom of age be treated with disdain? Perhaps it is because the old know what we fear. “…we are visitors here, passing through a great mystery.” (William Falk, The Week, September 11, 2015, pg. 5)

So quietly our friends leave us, softer than a whisper and yet the effect breaks us down and leaves us bent with tears… those of us who also wait.

In our society, often the place for the old is an institution where children and grandchildren take consolation in the knowledge their loved ones are safe. But safe from whom? Death is what they… we… face once we are robbed of the youthful illusion that somehow we will escape our destiny. From the old comes the final, important wisdom: how to confront defeat with grace; how to accept consciousness as an incandescent flicker, a breathless moment when we are privileged to glimpse a blinding, clairaudient communion. Then, the light goes out and we dream… or forget.   

(Originally posted 10/29/15)

child in mourning

Courtesy of www.featurepics.com

 

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6 Comments
  1. Betsy October 29, 2015 at 9:27 am Reply
    "That accept me" begins to change as we age, in subtle ways. A reminder that it is robustness our culture insists on. Sometimes, as in this retirement center, the soft glory of brokenness is okay,because we all get it, and we are able to love in a brand new way in the days we have left. No longer robust; but softened.
    • Caroline Miller October 29, 2015 at 10:57 am Reply
      Beautifully expressed. Thank you.
  2. Nancy White October 29, 2015 at 2:28 pm Reply
    Beautifully expressed, Caroline. Some of us are blessed with friends and family who treat us with respect - I treasure that.
    • Caroline Miller October 29, 2015 at 5:10 pm Reply
      As a king of ancient times advised his enemy, don't count yourself as having a good life until you see how it looks near the end. You are a lucky woman, and blessed with a good life
  3. Pamela L. November 30, 2017 at 12:03 pm Reply
    This is one of the most touching, beautiful, winsome posts I've seen from you, Caroline. I cannot tell you how much it moved me, and I will be sharing.
    • Caroline Miller November 30, 2017 at 12:18 pm Reply
      Thank you, Pamela. High praise which I cherish from a fellow writer.

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Contact Caroline at

carolinemiller11@yahoo.com

Portland, Oregon author Caroline Miller had distinguished careers as an educator, union president, elected official and artist/advocate.

Her play, Woman on the Scarlet Beast, was performed at the Post5 Theatre, Portland, OR, January/February 2015

Caroline published a serialized novelette, Marie Eau-Claire, on the website, The Colored Lens.  She also published the story Gustav Pavel,  a parable about ordinary lives, choice and alternate potential, on the website Fixional.co.

Caroline has published four novels

  • Ballet Noir
  • Trompe l’Oeil
  • Gothic Spring
  • Heart Land

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