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Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your affection sealed and laid away until your friends are dead. Fill their days with tenderness. Speak your words of commendation while their ears can hear them. The things you mean to say when they are gone, say before they go. The flowers you mean to send for their coffins, send beforehand to brighten and sweeten their homes ere they go out of them. I have often said–and I know I speak for thousands of other weary, plodding toilers–that if my friends have vases laid away, filled with the perfumes of sympathy and affection, which they intend to break over my dead body, I would far rather they would bring them out along my toilsome days and open them, when I can enjoy them and be refreshed by them.
“What use that the spurring paeans roll
When the runner is safe beyond the goal?
What wroth is eulogy’s blandest breath
When whispered in ears that are hushed in death?
No, no; if you have word of cheer
Speak it while I am alive to hear.”
Post-mortem kindnesses do not cheer the burdened spirit. Tears falling on the icy brow of death make poor and too tardy atonement for coldness, neglect, and cruel selfishness in life’s long, struggling years. Appreciation when the heart is stilled has no inspiration for the spirit. Justice comes too late when it is pronounced only in funeral eulogium. Flowers piled on the coffin cast no fragrance backward over weary days.