When I am dead

My poem is intentionally pragmatic, reflecting my own scientific approach to life and death.

I was prompted to write my poem ‘When I am dead’ following the death of my own father last year at the age of 102.  During his final years, his increasingly frailty and frequent bouts of illness caused him to regret having lived to such a great age and this is reflected in my poem, which I have written very much from a scientist’s viewpoint of the circle of life.

When I am Dead

What will become of me when I am dead?

I often wonder this as I grow older.

The thought comes to me frequently and I

Suspect that my subconscious mind grows bolder

As my demise inevitably draws closer.

 

We know that that death’s a natural event

That ends the life of everything around us.

We see it daily in all living things –

In insects, plants and fungi that confound us.

Our own mortality, though, seems surreal.

 

I understand the universe recycles

All matter that exists within its bounds.

I know the atoms that make up my body

Are resting there so briefly it astounds

Me that I’m merely a repository.

 

Through all the breaths I’ve taken, I’ve inhaled

The molecules of those who’ve lived before.

Exhaling, I give compounds to the ether

To be absorbed next week, next year and more,

By others whohave never known my name.

 

I’ll pay back all the elements I’ve borrowed –

Some in my lifetime, others when I’m gone.

A most efficient process of recycling

Without which living things could not go on.

The building blocks would rapidly deplete.

 

I totally accept a world existed

Before my birth, although a strange conception.

And equally I know that one is certain to remain

When I am gone. But what is the perception

That enables me to visualise this future?

 

Life is an endless struggle for survival –

A struggle that we know we all shall lose.

Are we the only species with awareness

Of our mortality? Why do we choose

To try to live as long as we are able?

 

Do other creatures seek their own longevity

Or is their aim survival of their kind?

Some sacrifice themselves to reproduce

And once they have achieved this, they’re resigned;

Their job is done. Their purpose is fulfilled.

 

So why then are we humans all so eager

To live on way beyond a useful age?

And why have many people over centuries

Longed for that immortality, which any sage

Should know would spell the death of all that lives?

 

In common, I imagine, with most others,

I wish a peaceful death to end my life.

For some, this comes much sooner than they’d like it

And painfully, perhaps; it’s all too rife.

So maybe that’s a reason why some fear it.

 

It’s not the state of being dead that troubles,

But wondering when and how and where I’ll be.

While those whose lives are longer than they wish

Just yearn to leave this world and hope to see

An end to their intolerable state.

 

So take my kidneys, liver, heart and colon,

My pancreas and lungs, and take my brain.

I’ll have no further need for all these organs

So use them to relieve another’s pain.

Absurdly, though, I’d like to keep my eyes!

 

I wonder when the atoms in my body

Will show up somewhere else in other form.

That will depend how long my corpse remains

Exposed to air and moisture, whether warm

Or cold, refrigerated and embalmed.

 

Whilst I myself am not concerned about

The creatures that will certainly consume me,

I hope I shall not die and lie alone

For days or weeks because I would presume the

Image of my rotting would abhor.

 

My nearest and my dearest would recoil

Identifying each decaying feature.

I really would prefer to be remembered

As when I was a scientist, a teacher,

A wife, a mother, grandmother and friend.

 

 

 

Written By:  Valerie Simpson BSc CChem FRSC

 

About the author

Valerie Simpson
9 Up Votes
I was born during World War II in Dulwich, in South London, and educated at Sydenham High School GDST. After graduating with an honours degree in Chemistry from the University of London, I was employed by the British Pharmacopoeia Commission, where my job was to devise names for new drugs. I went into teaching when my two children were young and I held the post of Head of Chemistry at Old Palace School in Croydon. From there, I moved into education management as Vice Principal of Cambridge Tutors College, an International Sixth Form College also in Croydon. I served on their governing body and was also a governor at another school in the area, Croham Hurst School for Girls, where I chaired the Education Committee. Since my main employment was no longer specifically related to Chemistry, I kept up my interest in the subject by working freelance as Principal Moderator in A-level Chemistry for the examination board, Edexcel. I then became Principal Scrutineer for the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, where I was responsible for monitoring the work of all the awarding bodies. As an Inspector for the British Accreditation Council, my work was to ensure that standards were maintained in colleges of further education. Now, although I am retired from full-time employment, I work freelance as an Education Consultant and, in this capacity, I have a regular contract with a Croydon school. In my role there as Sixth Form Counsellor, I advise young people on careers choices, helping them with applications to university, preparing them for interviews and providing academic mentoring – in particular, for those with autistic spectrum disorders. I became interested in neurodiversity after my husband was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome at the age of 50 and I have published a book about my life with him in an attempt to raise awareness of the challenges facing adults with autism. Two years ago, my husband and I moved from Croydon to Ferring, in West Sussex, where we are enjoying the autumn of our lives in the relative tranquility of a coastal village and I am serving as a Parish Councillor. I was prompted to write my poem ‘When I am dead’ following the death of my own father last year at the age of 102. During his final years, his increasingly frailty and frequent bouts of illness caused him to regret having lived to such a great age and this is reflected in my poem, which I have written very much from a scientist’s viewpoint of the circle of life.
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