Rec | DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL BY HENRY SCOTT-HOLLAND

⚰️

DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL BY HENRY SCOTT-HOLLAND

lots of funerals lately and this poem is so lovely. (Photo is bad so I linked it too)

@reaganheartscanada

Apr 27, 2025

see likes

Comments (0)

Make an account to reply.

No comments yet

Related Recs

🪦

Making the most of a funeral

My nana died recently and the funeral was probably the best day out of a terrible few weeks I enjoyed the (sometimes farcical) performance of the Catholic ceremony, which was so disconnected from her life and personhood that you kind of had to laugh (i did this inwardly only). The priest got my granddad’s name wrong in the reading and half-sang along to the hymns as he performed the rites, the way you do when you’re listening to music while pottering about the house I talked with family I hadn’t seen in years, or had seen and pretty much ignored because it felt easier at the time I enjoyed noticing how there are maybe two different kinds of nose and mouth distributed among the cousins (myself included), except one girl I was convinced was a relative on the strength of her appearance turned out not to be, so maybe I was just looking for shared qualities where there aren’t any. I don’t think that is a bad thing though

@2666

Nov 4, 2024

⭐

Anti-rec: Funerals

not fun

@Rattlesnake

Apr 8, 2025

🍓

Young in a deadman's field

I am 18, and a cook. Not a unheard of concept, yes, very young, honestly the youngest someone could be in this field (probably). This thought came to mind awhile ago. Everyone dies, yes, we all must, but, there's a rather large chance, that my fellow cooks will die before me. These people, who've liked two, three, hell, even FOUR times my age, who've lived full lives, have had children, who have made countless of orders of oysters, brussel sprouts, will die. There will be a day where all of these fabulous cooks who stand there, right across from the expo, behind them their prep stations, while they wield their knives, aren't there anymore. They're gone. They won't be able to write the prep to-do list for me. They won't be there to help me organize the fish/meat rack. They won't be able to help me get things from the tops of the shelves. They'll just be a part of a memory. A part of my life, my story. And maybe one day, just maybe, I'll be that to someone. That's the craziest, and kinda most beautiful thing about life. It's not the views, not the gigantic redwood trees in chile. It's not the Tatra mountains in Poland. It's none of it. It's Death. You have to Die.