Speechless...!

When someone so close to you passes on after a bitter struggle with cancer,
you are mostly like to be silent...

When that person is your eldest sister and mentor for some obvious reasons,
You are most likely to remain shocked...

And when your eldest sister plays the role of your mother... because she is more,
you are mostly likely to be more confused...

But when she passes on; leaving three little kids with mouths agape...
you are most likely to cry...

At times like this Naomi, the only consolation, is in John Donne's word:


"Death, Be Not Proud"


Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.