Veneta Donaldson: "And Now I Keep My Promise"

Veneta Donaldson's little box
This little box sat in an honored spot in Veneta's home for as long as I can remember, until the time came for me to bring it to my house. Inside, she kept a few photos, copied-down quotes, and her very special poems. A few days after she died, I opened this box and found the following brief poem. She undoubtedly wrote it after her husband, Clyde, passed away, and it was read at the end of her funeral, next to the grave of her beloved.


And Now I Keep My Promise
by Veneta Donaldson

And now I keep my promise to you
That I would "see you in a little while" –
Beyond the stars, the sun, the wind,
Beyond the long, interminable mile.

Veneta's favorite photo of Clyde

Endnote: We have reached the final poem in this series. I hope that you have enjoyed the work of Veneta Donaldson as much as I. She was an inspiration to me in life as an aunt, and now in death, as a writer.

Additional poetry by Veneta Donaldson starts here.

The beginning of this series of poems by Veneta Donaldson and a brief bio can be found here: Veneta Donaldson: A Poet in the Family.

Veneta Donaldson: "In Memoriam"

Veneta Donaldson's father, c. 1952
This is another poem I found folded up in my aunt's little box of special things. She wrote it when her father died. I must admit that I have edited it a bit. Veneta had a habit of avoiding the trappings of grief, and I believe that she would have made the sorts of editorial changes I did here, if this poem had not been such a strong reminder of the loss of her father.

In Memoriam
by Veneta Donaldson

Our tears are yours, our grief,
This haunting, calendared day
When one we loved so earnestly
So quietly passed away.

The dearness of your smile,
Cherished throughout our memory;
The strength and beauty of your hands
Will live with us in constancy.

Your step, so eager and so quick
Across the threshold of our time
Brought joy to all our hearts
When we beheld you in your prime.

The firmness of your will,
The self-inflicted discipline,
Were tempered with a gentleness
So rarely found among men.

Our tears are yours, our grief,
For you who left us sad but wise;
A loving memory is ours
It never, never, ever dies.


The next poem in this series can be found here: Impasse.

This is part of a series of poems by Veneta Donaldson. A brief bio and the beginning of the series can be found here: Veneta Donaldson: A Poet in the Family.

Singapore!

Just got back from Singapore, the Lion City. It's a lovely place, and the people are marvelous. Didn't plan to go there, but had to fly out when my husband ended up having emergency surgery on his way back from India--instead of making his connecting flight, he had an ambulance ride and his life saved! I flew over to be with him, and after two and a half weeks, we've just arrived back home.

I have learned so much about things like the love and help of my family and neighbors, getting a passport renewal in a hurry, the stellar medical care in Singapore (better than stateside, I believe), and my own feelings about death. Yep, death. Not scared of it for myself at all, but suddenly I understand that if I get a deadly disease, it'll be scary for those who love me. So scary, in fact, that it's worth fighting to stay alive... for them, not for me. Being on the wife-end of it has radically changed my perspective on my own demise. How could I have missed this? Well, I know it now, and my husband is going to be just fine.

Whew. Now we both need to sleep a lot... at night... which is not happening for me at the moment, this post being written at 2:00 am.

In the Arms of the Angels

Sigh. Today I attended a cremation. There were just two of us there with the technician and the... deceased. I sang that song, "Angel," all the way home. I hope our friend found the way home with her angels a few days ago when she left the body. She was a brave soul who did a lot of good in this world. Sigh.

A Great Lady Has Passed This Way

Today I learned that a wonderful woman left this life last night. She loved nature, flowers, her family. I'm sure she took comfort in the knowledge that she raised fine children, all good people. And her grandchildren are growing up to carry the clan forward.

My own mother fought cancer for 10 years before she left the body at age 55. It took 6 years for me to actually come to terms with her death. My conclusion was, and still is, that it was not the unfair taking of her life away from her and my brother and me, but it was the release that she needed. She was freed from a body that just couldn't go on, freed from the trials of her life, and she was finally able to go to whatever was waiting for her.

The full Moon is shining through the trees outside my window. The mist that surrounded her has vanished, and she is high and bright now.