Wednesday, November 12, 2014

The Horizon


 Gone From My Sight
by Henry Van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore. 
A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.  
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says,
 "There, she is gone."

Gone where?

Gone from my sight.  
That is all.  
She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

Not long ago I reread Grief and Grieving.
 I had read it immediately after losing Abby and it gave me some insights into many of the things
I was feeling at that moment.
So a year later I reread it wondering if there
 would be any more answers I could find that would help me now. 

It felt like a new book to me.
It made me realize how very far I had come since I had read it last.
One of many new revelations to strike me was the notion of the horizon.
I am well acquainted with the horizon on the Ocean, living less than an hour away from the Atlantic.
Many times I have gazed off into it's horizon.
That never ending horizon.

Now, I have a special way to think of that horizon.
When a ship sails off and it goes past that horizon from what the eye can see,
it does not disappear off the face of the earth.
It only disappears from view.
So, I will keep that analogy for my beloved Abby.
 She is sailing across the Oceans on the next voyage of her life,
 while I must wait on shore until my ship arrives to join her.
She is not gone only removed from my limited vision.
She is still there just as she always was.

In this photo that I took at Vilano Beach in 2010
you can barely make out in the upper left hand
corner a shrimping boat.
From the shore it looks small but as it comes
closer to shore you can see
that it is not.
It's an optical illusion.
Just as the sky meeting the ocean.
An illusion.
The ocean does not end.
The sky does not end.
But what I can see does.
An illusion.

The next time I go down to the seashore
I will gaze out to where the water meets the edge of the sky
 and I will call Abby...Abby I'm waiting..I'm waiting for you to come back to me.
Abby I'm waiting.


  1. i like that way of thinking about departed loved ones, that they are just gone from our sight.

    hugs annabelle and the gang.

    emma and buster

  2. A lovely post today and a wonderful picture of the sea at Vilano Beach. The sea there looks very peaceful and Abby will be at peace there too.
    Luv Hannah and Lucy xx xx


  4. wow! That was incredibly heave <3 <3 <3
    ღ husky hugz ღ frum our pack at Love is being owned by a husky!

  5. A lovely poem and a lovely way to look at things. Thank you for sharing this.
    Purrs Georgia and Julie,
    Treasure and JJ
    and the mom

  6. What a beautiful poem and lovely thoughts.

  7. That is such a lovely way of thinking. I like that a lot. Take care.

  8. I like that thought. I hope to meet my loved ones some day when I take my ship for distant shores.

  9. I love this poem and the idea that our loved ones are only out of sight beyond the horizon waiting for us.

  10. I remember standing on the shore watching the boats in the distance. An interesting concept.

  11. That poem is wonderful, and what a great way to think of your beloved Abby, and those others who have gone before. Hugs to you.

  12. So beautiful...
    Gone from our sight, our everyday tasks and sometimes even gone from our busy thoughts.
    But never, ever gone from our hearts.

  13. What a great perspective... just over the horizon. Out of sight, out of reach, but still loved and in our heart and thoughts.

  14. Love this poem. Everything we revisit, a book, poem o photo over time shifts. It's only by looking back to we see how far we've travelled. It's why documenting our journey is so healing.

  15. I like that way of thinking too. I always feel that Oskar is still with me, just not where I can see him either :)

  16. Thank you for sharing this with us,,,and allowing us to heal with our wounds too.
    So many times you have posted words, and the words have also spoken to us,
    Thank you for allowing us on your journey.

  17. Yes. We also thank you for baring your heart and sharing that poignant poem and event with us.
    Big purrs and hugs.

  18. Dat's vewy bootyful.

    Luv ya'

    Dezi and Lexi

  19. Beautiful poem with comforting and helpful words. Hugs!!!


    My therapist told me, after my husband died, that I will love him on a different plane less a love and no less is so true


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