Words of comfort

Words+of+comfort

Pamela Everett, Opinion Columnist

I’m rarely at a loss for words but I have been since I heard the news that freshman Eddie Key III was found dead here at WSC on Saturday.

I didn’t know him but I feel like I did.

In our Wayne State community, it’s impossible not to feel a loss like this as if it were your own, especially the loss of a young life, on campus, so close to home.

When my dad died, a friend gave me the following poem. I still have it on the original years-worn piece of paper and I’m always moved whenever I find it in the box of special things.

It seemed fitting to share this week, when so many of us just can’t find the words.

The clock of life is
wound but once, And no man has the power To tell just when the
hands will stop At late or early hour.

To lose one’s wealth
is sad indeed, To lose one’s health is more, To lose one’s soul
is such a loss That no man can restore.

The present only is our own,
So Live, Love, toil
with a will Place no faith in tomorrow For the clock may then
be still.

Robert H. Smith