“She was nothing when she died. She had no personality, no capacity to speak.”
(Widower, on his wife’s six years’ terminal illness).
“. . . a self, another brightly wrought illusion”
(lan McEwan, Saturday, 2005).
Yes, “nothing” is possible. Once
she lived, no doubt, as if
it were not – at least for her:
others’ fate as strange as myths
to all who still act, think, live.
And what depths had he touched,
who shared her bed to the end,
propped by no “brightly wrought illusion”
or deceit of change, to say at last
“she was nothing” – a blasphemy
to some, or a brave truth . . .
Dying, did her “soul” purified
float free, somehow capable
again of speech and knowledge?
Does that define the soul,
or is that, too, nothing –
vain symbol of self-belief?
– Michael Thorpe
