Sitting patient in the shadow
Till the blessed light shall come,
A serene and saintly presence
Sanctifies our troubled home.
Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows
Break like ripples on the strand
Of the deep and solemn river
Where her willing feet now stand.
O my sister, passing from me,
Out of human care and strife,
Leave me, as a gift, those virtues
Which have beautified your life.
Dear, bequeath me that great patience
Which has power to sustain
A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit
In its prison-house of pain.
Give me, for I need it sorely,
Of that courage, wise and sweet,
Which has made the path of duty
Green beneath your willing feet.
Give me that unselfish nature,
That with charity devine
Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake--
Meek heart, forgive me mine!
Thus our parting daily loseth
Something of its bitter pain,
And while learning this hard lesson,
My great loss becomes my gain.
For the touch of grief will render
My wild nature more serene,
Give to life new aspirations,
A new trust in the unseen.
Henceforth, safe across the river,
I shall see forever more
A beloved, household spirit
Waiting for me on the shore.
Hope and faith, born of my sorrow,
Guardian angels shall become,
And the sister gone before me
By their hands shall lead me home.
-Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
Imagine how embarrassed I was, Beth, when we arrived at Alcott's family home this last summer for a tour. I was embarrassed because I quickly learned a fun fact I'd long forgotten: Louisa Alcott was the second daughter of her family, just the same as my Louisa is in our family. And guess what Louisa's older sister was named? ANNA!!! So I felt like a psycho fan coming to take the tour with my daughters Anna and Louisa along for the ride. I only tell you because I KNOW you would've laughed and laughed.
I decided to read Little Women again in 2018. I hadn't read it since the summer between sixth and seventh grade, so I knew the gist of the story but had forgotten so many wonderful details. It was like reading it again for the first time. I LOVED EVERY PAGE.
My heart ripped with a knowing pang when the beloved Beth started to decline. I knew what was coming. To say I sobbed during the "Dying and Death of Beth" chapters is an understatement.
I experienced the same startle, though, when I turned the page to see Jo's poem, "My Beth." For years, I called you "My Beth," addressing nearly every email with that greeting. Clearly, Alcott had influenced my 12-year-old self way more than I realized. ;-)
So, this is in honor of you My Beth, four years after you've left this world for another.
"One day Beth told her. Jo thought she was asleep, she lay so still, and putting down her book, sat looking at her with wistful eyes, trying to see signs of hope in the faint color on Beth’s cheeks. But she could not find enough to satisfy her, for the cheeks were very thin, and the hands seemed too feeble to hold even the rosy shells they had been collecting. It came to her then more bitterly than ever that Beth was slowly drifting away from her, and her arms instinctively tightened their hold upon the dearest treasure she possessed. For a minute her eyes were too dim for seeing, and when they cleared, Beth was looking up at her so tenderly that there was hardly any need for her to say, Jo dear, I’m glad you know it. I’ve tried to tell you, but I couldn’t.
"Beth lay a minute thinking, and then said in her quiet way, 'I don’t know how to express myself, and shouldn’t try to anyone but you, because I can’t speak out except to my Jo. . . . I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I’m not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven.'"
