posted on Jun, 5 2010 @ 03:37 PM
A few words...
It is always a sobering moment when someone you know passes. John Crawford has, and will be repeatedly lauded and praised, and deservedly so… He was
a singularly kind person, free malice or contempt, a free spirit who would lend a hand to anyone in need and would always think of others long before
considering himself. John was imbued with tenacity for life, a will without equal, a titan of perseverance. While Fate will ultimately claim us all,
John stood fast in the face of an opponent beyond our mortal understanding, and prevailed until the end. The hand that finally cut the golden thread
of his life surely trembled from the struggle, and will not soon forget the courage and determination that John had exhibited. He was an inspiration
to all, in my own time of need I looked to his fortitude, and sought solace and a renewed sense of enthusiasm for life.
The sorrow isn’t for John, it is for us… We have been lessened in his parting, deprived of our strength and foundation, bereft of his good
auspices… We are now deaf, blind and frail. The solace we must take is that John has shown us the way… Inculcated not by any explicit outline, but
by the far more arduous and taxing journey as a just and upright man, devoid of contention or strife save one great struggle with Cancer. That we
should live each day with same grace and temperate demeanor would be our greatest tribute. A gentle soul who by his interminable character and humble
demeanor has given us chart in which to navigate our own lives.
Our earthly bond with John has been severed, but rather than goodbye, a fond farewell until we meet again.
O Captain My Captain
a poem by Walt Whitman
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
May his family and all those who knew him find comfort in the outpouring of love and friendship, may John find the peace he so richly deserves.