dead – Black and White

Harry Jerome Arnold

Clouds steeple cross — Harry Jerome Arnold had a mission from God.

Harry downtown — Harry’s mission was to warn people about Hell by means of his poetry. He was unable to publish his book. He died. So go, at times, missions and dreams.

God’s Poem Writer, Harry Jerome Arnold, died the first week of May, 2015 of esophageal cancer. Reportedly, his was a quiet and peaceful death (at home, with Hospice care). After being homeless for many years, Harry died with the dignity of a roof over his head. He lived at the Crossings. He was, in our interactions, a saint, like a wandering holy man. Quick to smile and give kindness to other people.

September’s children

William, Edith, Emma — three consecutive days in September 171 years apart

2 children on a desk — Borderline simultaneous, arriving one brilliant morning just past midnight.

flag and porch — Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor good job, farewell

Miz Mouse Mus Musculus

mouse and rodent activity wheel — She was a gentle loving mouse. Prisoner for four years. Always had a smile, devoted to the children. In her old age the twins helped her with water therapy and groomed her with their fingertips.

the Quick and the Dead

trees and tombs — Bellefontaine Cemetery. Opened in St. Louis 1850 with the thought that an out of town burying ground would reduce deaths from cholera (graveyard vapors thought to contribute to cholera). Went to visit great great granddad who died in STL in 1854 of Cholera.

Death, Affordable Housing, Transportation and Everything Else

aerial view of a graveyard and multifamily development NYC — On the flight path to LaGuardia. If you know where this is, please add the development and graveyard name in comments or email me emory@billemory.com.

lament

graveyard Westport MA — This is my grave of destiny here must I ever lie.
The path I’ve trod through all my life has ended so let me die.
All my life I’ve wondered just when my turn would come.
And with a very honest hope my destiny is won
But if I’ve won no one will know
And all should wonder why
A man as good and kind as I should really have to die.

promoman

Maximilian making memory — but the money that is spared on my memory suppresses my memory in posterity, and that which I fail to achieve in my life for my memory will not be made good by you or any other after my death
—Maximilian I

fire for the departed

releasing light and heat in the cold night of the year

Sophia Exeunt

Sophie died five years ago today. We’d been on our morning walk. Back at the house she died.

dog hole

She lay in state for the day in her nest next to the window.

Friends came to visit, say one last goodbye. Tears were shed.

Sophie went the distance, she was almost 16.

We buried her at sunset, planted a quercus robur on top her grave.

This photo was taken November 17, 2015, the last made while she was alive.

saddest roadkill