The Queen, My Lord, is Dead...

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
-- W.H. Auden

My mommy died :^(

Yes, the Dowager has passed. Eventhough this seems like a romantic piece, I think it is applicable because my Mom was also my friend. She was mine and my sisters' North, South, East, and West for sure. She was our everything.

It all seems so surreal. I was telling someone that I thought it seemed she was just in an "undisclosed location" and the person said "Well, she is." It made me feel a bit better. The whole thing is odd and unsettling.

There are only two positive things I can think of that come from this.

1. I can now go to the orphan's picnic

2. Below is who she shares here day of death with? That's my kind of sandwich!



Stay cool and safe!