Today, October 9, 2013, we looked
at a poem called The Death of a Toad
by Richard Wilbur. It talked about a toad killed by a lawnmower. While it was a
pretty simplistic poem in terms of interpretation and theme, it touched on an
emotional subject: death. The class talked about how the narrator of the story
seemed fascinated by the death of the toad, and for once I agreed with all the
points that were brought up by my peers, making it my favorite class discussion
thus far. We concluded the narrator almost enjoyed watching the life drain away
from the small amphibian; or rather he was curious and star struck. Mr.
Delacruz mentioned that it is possible the narrator saw himself/herself in the
dying toad and they could picture themselves dying a lonesome, insignificant
death like the toad did The Death of a
Toad.
At one point in class, Mr. Delacruz
asked the class if anyone had actually seen someone/something die in front of
them. This question ignited the stockpile of dynamite that is the memories from
my grandma’s passing at the beginning of this summer. When Mr. Delacruz posed
that question, it took me back to that room at Sparrow, where I witnessed my
grandmother leave this world. I cannot think of a more powerful moment than
that span of 60 seconds. I can recall feeling speechless and helpless similar
to the narrator in The Death of a Toad.
There was nothing the narrator could do to help the frog, like there was
nothing I could do at 5 o’clock on June 18th. Both the narrator and
I were paralyzed. As hard as it was for me to watch my beloved grandmother slip
away, it was also inspiring and uplifting.
As odd as it may sound, death is a
beautiful thing, and most often, the greatest relief of pain and suffering.
This was especially true in my grandma’s case. She had been battling with
Multiple Sclerosis for 35 years and she was unable to walk for the last 30
years of her life. Despite her setbacks, she never let that stop her and she
committed her life to her four beautiful daughters as well as her husband. She
suffered her whole life, but when she died, that suffering vanished. It was
hard for my family to deal with her absence in our lives because after all, my
grandmother and her aide would come to my house three times a week to escape
the nursing home for the day. Even though we miss her immensely, we all know
she is in a better place. It is amazing how many emotions a poem can bring to
the surface. These emotions are essential to a poem, however, because they
provide a way for the reader to connect and better understand the poem’s
meaning. This was the exact case with The
Death of a Toad by Richard Wilbur.
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