December 25, 1927
December 15, 2011
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts out upon the ocean.
I watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky mingle with each other.
Then someone says, "She's gone."
Gone where? Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and span as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not her. And just at that moment when someone at my side said, "She is gone" there are other eyes watching her coming and other souls taking up the glad shout, "There she comes."
That is dying.
Chief Horse Holder
Virginia Mowen - August 22, 2011
John Mowen - December 15, 2011