Dianne Sharpe

Our loss

Is gain in other times.

Our hopes on future bent

Must then depend on incidents like these.

For bodies wear

And in

The fine grist mill of time

Are spent in service such

As yours

And go, our time by smallest time

Into the yesterday wherein began

The conquest of Eternity.

What did we know

When yesterday we wept?

What grip upon us had our ignorance

That we in our conceit did feel

That all of us were mortal here

And lives once led were spent

And wasted on our selfish selves?

How narrow is such scope

To feel that we

Should be eternally

The goal of all the toil

And wretchedness

From birth to death

And like a play

The curtain dropped

And left an empty stage.

How dull of us to feel that we

Were all the target of this strife

And that we lived but once

And living then did reconcile

The whole in one brief life.

Oh no, a wider drama here

Was planned and staged

And we with narrowness of mind

Did overlook the plan.

We said that all is

Mortal flesh

The spirit just a thing

To send, for pence

To some strange heaven

There to waste its skill.

Or, had we not the price,

To some deep other place

To pain, and waste again

The life.

To what dark depths

Were dropped our minds

To feel that flesh

Is capable of love or trust or livingness,

To feel that fingernails and masks

Are all we need to dream?

To what deep place

Did our love go

That mass could recompense?

Anxieties that ruled our years

Were nurtured here.

And we

Made blind and numb

By other greed

Spanned down our lives

To One.

What waste!

To feel that all our love

Our work,

Our gifts,

Our knowledge and our

Sighs

Were meant

To be consumed

All in one

Breath and flash

And by one name?

Today, come wiser now

The chains gone weak

And tyranny of cult

Gone tired with the years,

We look

We find we live

Not once

But on and on

From body’s birth to

Body’s grave and then

To birth again

And yea to grave again

So to dispose possessions

Oft come undone

With livingness.

From century to century

From age to age and on

We go in march along

The path that leads

Forever up the countless

Ticks of time.

We crawl, we walk, we fly

We win

From here and evermore

The heritage of all our lives

And spend it once again.

Why this is no sad and

Bleakish look,

No sorrowed thing

This life.

This an adventure pure

Where without knife or

Provender we leap

Aloft into eternity

And span forever in a breath.

This is adventure where

We step from tie to

Body tie

And go

Our way.

INTRODUCTION

No one on this planet can be born without a mother.

A mother is an only one... as you can only have one real mother.

That would be the flesh of your flesh biological mother.

And even with all the embryo test tube babies and all the scientific things that can be done. She is still the only one real mother that you will ever have. And that is the person who created you from her own flesh.

And some people are lucky enough to have their biological mother raise them and be their mother in life. Other people may not be that lucky and they have another mother who does the job.

But even all of that aside, the bond with your mother is a special one whether flesh of her flesh or not. No one else can really ever take the place of or be that person who raised you.

And it is made even more special when your mother is the one who raises you from a mere thought which then becomes a man. Which is how your mother raised you.

She created you and then she made sure you continued to live and worked hard to try to make you happy. She nurtured you through all the trials in the life of you as a child. By feeding you and tending to your needs and giving you love.

And this is no small feat, for it takes a lot of work to raise a child.

Sometimes it is a thankless job. The child wants to do something and you won't let them and they think you a tyrant. But they will eventually see that you meant them well and were just trying to make them able to make it in life.

So this poem is in honor of your mother and I would like to share it with you and your family.

AN ODE TO YOUR MOTHER

There are bottles in the middle of the night.

There are lessons where you try to teach your child right.

And there are cuddles to handle your child's fright.

When they have a nightmare in the dark of night.

You have to be there to make their world safe and bright.

There are scrapes and tumbles and dogs that bite.

Through sticks and stones and cries and moans,

Your mother persists through all your yells and groans.

She has to make sure you are educated so you're not dumb.

And has to handle your feelings when all you feel is numb.

She has to make things right and your world made bright.

When you come crying to her about your plight.

And knees you scraped and toys you broke.

And handle things you tried to swallow that made you choke.

She was always there to give you care.

And she always had wisdom she wanted to share.

So you could make it in your new life.

So you could live happy and free of strife.

Children do not always see what you are trying to do.

Is to teach them things that will help them through

All the troubles and challenges that life can throw

In your face when you really just don't know

What to do or where to go.

Or when it is not safe to eat the snow.

When you just continue to grow

And try to find out what you need to know.

She tries to guide you through your life

So you can live without a lot of strife.

So you have to thank her when she decides to go

Because her time is for her to know

That life should close and she should start anew

Because there will always be new things to do

You have to let her go when her time is up

As she needs to start drinking from another cup

Cause her body is old and it doesn't work anymore

So she has to change it up to even the score

So she can come back and live once again

And raise more children like a mother hen

With a whole new brood of chicks to raise.

We let her go with our highest praise.

Thank you mom for all you've done.

You made it so my life was fun.

We all love you.

Goodbye.

And we hope to see you again.

For a loving son in memory of his mother.

Written by Minister Nancy Phelps for John Sharpe on the passing of his beloved mother.

Our suff’ring is

Self-centered here

For we have lost,

In truth,

The smile,

The touch,

The skill and happiness

We gained

From Dianne

Who gave to us

From her past

Ability to live

And fare against

The tides and storms of fate.

It’s true we’ve lost

Her shoulder

Up against the wheel

And lost as well her counsel

And her strength

But lost them

Only for a while.

She goes

Not with the dismal roll drum

But with a whisper like

A Faery’s sigh

To smooth the way

For when we come.

She’ll be in some good

Future time

And future place

Her smile

Her skill

Invested there to make

A way for life.

True, true we may not

Know her then and

Only know her work.

But still

If we sent not ahead

Our vedettes into time

We would not have

A race.

And so, branched off from

This

Genetic Line

And into some new

Corner or new world,

We’ve sent you, Dianne,

And there there’ll be

We know it now,

A smile,

A touch,

A happiness for us

And you

You could not find

On Earth.

And so it turns,

The day, the year,

The age.

And so we go

With banners furled

And quietly

Upon our way.

But now we know

And now we’ll find

The Way.

Into the dark

Has come the light

Into tomorrow

Enters night

Into heaven

Go no more.

Into life our

Spirits soar

Conquering ever

Wisdom’s store

We do not tremble

Faced with death

We know that living

Is not breath.

Prevail!

Go, Dianne

And take

The life

That offers now

And live

In good expectancy

That we

Will do our part.

Go, Dianne

You can control

That which you must.

Our loss

Is gain

In wisdom and in skill

To future dates and other smiles

And so we send into the

Chain of all enduring time

Our heritage

Our hope

Our friend.

Goodbye, Dianne.

Your people thank you for having lived

Earth is better for your having lived

Men, women and children are alive today

Because you lived.

We thank you for coming to us.

We do not contest your

Right to go away.

Your debts are paid.

This chapter of thy life is shut.

Go now, dear Dianne, and live once more

In happier time and place.

Thank you, Dianne).

All now here lift up

Your eyes and say to

Dianne

Goodbye.

(Congregation) Goodbye.

Goodbye, our dear

Goodbye.

We’ll miss you, you know.

Let the body now

Draw away

To be consumed to ashes

And to dust

In earthly and in cleanly fire

To be no more, no more.

And that is done.

Come friends,

She is all right

And she is gone.

We have our work

To do. And she has hers.

She will be welcome there.

To Man!

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.firstmemorialnorthvancouver.com for the Sharpe family.