The Little Ship
I stood watching as the little ship sailed out to sea. The setting sun tinted his white sails with a golden light, and as he disappeared from sight a voice at my side whispered, "He is gone".
But the sea was a narrow one. On the farther shore a little band of friends had gathered to watch and wait in happy expectation. Suddenly they caught sight of the tiny sail and, at the very moment when my companion had whispered, "He is gone" a glad shout went up in joyous welcome, "Here he comes!"
Shriver said that poetry helped her through her cousin John F. Kennedy, Jr.'s death. "A few years ago, when my cousin died, John, in an unexpected way, I was given a poem by a friend that helped me through some pretty dark days," she said. "It gave me some peace within whenever I thought about him in a faraway place, that I would be unable to see him or talk to him again. I read it many, many times and I thought I could share it with all of you today with the hope that it might also give you some peace within."
I think that if anyone knows how to "deal" with death - as if death is a particularly thorny issue to be "managed" - it is a member of the Kennedy clan. We all hope and pray that we never have to follow in their footsteps even as we all know that, inevitably, we do.