
- Avoid the void.
- Void the void.
- Implore the void.
- Embrace, revere, explore the void.
pic & poem by rachel mcalpine cc-by-2.0

pic & poem by rachel mcalpine cc-by-2.0

For the next two or three weeks, the poems on this blog come from a special section in my collection Senior Poems. The section is called “Dying Wisely”, and most of the poems are about the terminal illness and death of my very dear brother-in-law, Professor Graham Nuthall. (This is not a recent death, by the way.)
The death of anyone you love is different from every other. And you experience this death in a different light from anyone else. It seems almost presumptuous to write about this death, knowing that my own feelings were surely but a pale distortion of what my sister, his wife, and his children went through.
And although I write about the lessons I learned from Graham’s death, I would never pretend that I know anything about death in general. Only about how his particular illness and death seemed to me personally. The poems reflect flashes of insight for which I am grateful. The writing was a powerful part of the process, helping me learn more.
As I typed the poems into my blog, one by one, and as I type these thoughts, I get echoes of that same scouring grief. The same fear and panic as I contemplate future deaths, the inevitability, the mystery, the void. And the same intense gratitude for the dear departed — not just Graham, of course, but my parents and grandparents and uncles and aunts, and some close friends.
Dying wisely may be an impossible dream. Grieving wisely is hard enough. But we all do our best, and our best will be good enough, this I know.
I would really appreciate hearing your own thoughts about the poems. Ways in which your own experience has been similar, or different. Your own fears, hopes, and inspirations. Your changing attitudes towards death as you grow older.
pic and words cc-by-2.0 rachel mcalpine

start the day right
start the right day on the right foot
right this very now
and if in doubt
reroute, restart, rewrite the day
any old why or how
pic & poem by rachel mcalpine cc-by-2.0

Youth is juice
youth is couth
and jumble
and youth
is jig-a-jig-jig.

‘Today was the worst day
in my whole entire life.
Five bad things happened.
Oh lucky Max.
You’re six. And you survived.
May this truly be the worst day
in your whole entire life.
May you never have another day
as bad as this.
From Senior Poems by Rachel McAlpine

scarcely a dark night of the soul—
more like summer in Antarctica
an icy streak
of perpetual dawn
photo and not-a-haiku by rachel mcalpine cc-by-2.0

For a minute you thought
like a mythical hippo
that it was Monday.
Eat blueberries.
Yesterday’s treat
is tomorrow’s mythical cure.
From Senior Poems by Rachel McAlpine