Kang and Kate

Our scribbling sister is burying her best friend today, and I think we’re all in a solemn and reflective mood because of it. When times are hard we try comfort one another as best we can, but we may not always have the words. Sometimes there simply are no words.  But we’re here nonetheless. I never met Kate but it’s obvious that she meant the world to Kang.

Anyway, I’ll be shutting up now and letting the words of a much better poet take over:

Funeral Blues

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

3 thoughts on “Kang and Kate

  1. Thanks. I won’t pretend to understand what Kang is going through right now, since I’ve never lost anyone that close to me before. Of course I’ve experienced the loss of elderly relatives, but never anything like the deeply felt loss of a very close friend or family member. I do feel like I’ve gotten to know Kate through Kang’s writings, and the fact that she’s being buried today really is affecting me.

    • Thank you so much for that. For as much as I try to stay positive and in the land of the living, sometimes, you just want to say fuckitiall and go back to bed.

      It’s certainly been a surreal journey. For someone as humble as Kate is, I’m sure she would be gobsmacked to realize how much her death has impacted people far and wide.

      I cannot figure out if Kate was, indeed, watching today unfold – if she would throw rocks and laugh at us for being silly-sad or if she would be doubled over in pain watching us grieve. Probably a combination of both.

English, motherfucker, do you speak it? J/K - it's ok if you don't.

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