His Way Was Right

Grammy's days are few. We're heading back to Morgantown on Thursday to be with her, and only God knows how long we'll have until the busyness of death will begin. At this point, hospice and her doctors give her less than a week.

I found this poem a moment ago as I was sorting through old pictures. It had special significance tonight.

He writes in characters too grand

For our short sight to understand;

We catch but broken strokes, and try

To fathom all the mystery

Of withered hopes, of death, of life,

The endless war, the useless strife --

But there, with larger, clearer sight,

We shall see this --

His way was right.

His way was right.

{John Oxenham}