| Story ID: | 918 |
| Written by: | Wanda Molsberry Bates |
| Story type: | Poem |
| Location: | Manhattan KS USA |
| Year: | 1970 |
| Person: | Mary T. Bates |
| OurEcho | Everyone has a story. What's Yours? |
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The Final Gift
Our tears are shed, our flowers gently placed.
We stand apart to speak the last goodbye—
And we who see the lines of care erased
Still seek response to life’s eternal “Why?”
Must one who lives with others for concern
With selfless thoughts and acts the daily goal
In closing years a deeper patience learn?
Does body weakness magnify the soul?
Ah, some must wait and watch the moments fade
As long days creep toward the final end
When none would wish to have the hour stayed
And time, the enemy, becomes the friend.
In choosing, we would not have wished it so—
That close of life a welcome gift should be.
And yet within this hour must we bow low
In gratitude for death’s felicity.
(In memory of Mary T. Bates)
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