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Are You There?
by Diane Robertson
Misty breeze wraps about my shoulders, thinly
clad.
I shiver not, despite the coolness on my skin.
Comfort, I now feel.
Is it you my precious Angel?
Are
you there? I cannot hear your quiet voice,
But bird song fills the air
From high treetops to grassy marsh.
I wonder – is it you, Dear? Are you there?
The
roses in your garden bloom large,
And varied in hue from crimson deep, to barely
pink.
I cup the velvet bud, its fragrance soothes a
troubled mind.
This must be you, my little girl. Are you there?
Are
you the fiery autumn maples,
Or the star-like flakes of snow?
Are you the sparkle in the water of the lake
that we both loved,
Or, perhaps, the warmth I feel in the sand
beneath my toes?
Though your quiet voice I cannot hear,
Nor can I see again your sparkling eyes,
Or feel your dainty hand laid gently on my own,
You are here.
For memory's book will never
close –
Each lovely sound, or sight, or scent,
Another page from special times that we have
shared.
Oh, yes! You are here child – everywhere!
viewed online 22 February 2006
http://www.bereavement-poems-articles.com/poems/parentsgrief/102-are-you-there.htm
Angry
I read the beautiful poems
so lovingly written by grieving parents.
And I feel angry.
I read about the angels on their parents'
shoulders
And I feel angry.
I listen to parents relate how they communicate
with their child gone from this earth
And I feel angry.
We memorialize our children with beautifully
written
books, scholarships, gardens, trees, and
lighting candles.
And I feel angry.
That the world continues, in spite of our
children dying
And I feel angry.
Our surviving child's first steps, first day of
school,
graduation, wedding are bittersweet.
And I feel angry.
I will grow and change and maybe find hope again
because I have been through the worst possible
loss.
And I feel angry.
David died and I need to write this poem.
And I feel angry.
But most of all, I feel angry that our children,
grandchildren, siblings have died and we will
never see them again.
Lois Copeland, TCF Arlington (VA) chapter
"Come Walk Among the Stars”
by Winston Abbott
For years I never knew
whether the twilight was the ending of the day
or the beginning of the night
and then, suddenly one day,
I understood that this did not matter at all,
for time is but a circle,
and so there can be no beginning
and no ending,
and this is how I came to know
that birth and death are one,
and it is neither the coming or the going
that is of consequence.
What is of consequence
is the beauty that one gathers
in this interlude called
life."
Strength
by Terry Jago, TCF Regina, Canada
In the early days of my grief,
a tear would well up in my eyes,
a lump would form in my throat,
but you would not know -
I would hide it,
And I am strong.
In the middle days of my grief,
I would look ahead and see that wall
that I had attempted to go around
as an ever-present reminder of a wall yet
unscaled.
Yet I did not attempt to scale it
for the strong will survive –
And I am strong.
In the later days of my grief,
I learned to climb over that wall - step by step
-
remembering, crying, grieving.
And the tears flowed steadily as
I painstakingly went over.
The way was long, but I did make it,
For I am strong.
Near the resolution of my grief,
a tear will well up in my eyes,
a lump will form in my throat,
but I will let that tear fall - and you will see
it.
Through it you will see that I still hurt and I
care,
For I am strong
AT DAYBREAK
From Collected Poems
by Siegfriend Sassoon
I listen for him through the rain,
And in the dusk of starless hours
I know that he will come again;
Loth was he ever to forsake me:
He comes with the glimmerings of flowers
And stir of music to awake me.
Spirit of purity, he stands
As once he lived in charm and grace;
I may not hold him with my hands,
Nor bid him stay to heal my sorrow;
Only his fair, unshadowed face
Abides with me until tomorrow.
WHEN TOMORROW
STARTS WITHOUT ME
By David Romano
(copyrighted 1993)
When tomorrow starts without me
And I'm not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me.
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
The way you did today;
While thinking of the many things
We didn't get to say.
I know how much you love me ...
As much as I love you;
And each time that you think of me,
I know you'll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me
Please try to understand,
That an angel came and called my name
And took me by the hand.
She said my place was ready
In heaven far above;
And that I'd have to leave behind,
All those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
A tear fell from my eye;
For all my life, I'd always thought
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for,
So much yet to do;
It seemed almost impossible,
That I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
The good ones and the bad;
I thought of all the love we shared,
And all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday
Just even for awhile,
I'd say goodbye and kiss you
And maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized
That this could never be;
For emptiness and memories
Would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things
I might miss come tomorrow;
I thought of you, and when I did,
My heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven's gates
I felt so much at home;
When God looked down and smiled at me
From His great golden throne.
He said, "This is eternity
And all I've promised you;
Today your life on earth is past,
But here it all starts anew."
"I promise no tomorrow,
But today will always last;
And since each day's the same day,
There's no longing for the past."
"But you have been so faithful,
So trusting and so true;
Though at times you did do things,
You knew you shouldn't do."
"But you have been forgiven
And now at last you're free;
So won't you take my hand
And share my life with me?"
So when tomorrow starts without me,
Don't think we're far apart ...
For every time you think of me,
I'm right here ... in your heart.
Empty Places
by Genesse Gentry ~ TCF, Marin Cnty CA
I drove the old way yesterday.
It’’d been a while, you see.
And there, without a warning,
the pain washed over me.
I drove the old way yesterday
and sadness came on strong,
taken back by so much feeling,
since you’’ve been gone so long.
Places seem to lie in wait
to summon up the tears,
to say remember yesterday,
those days when you were here.
Places where you laughed and played
are places where I cry.
These places hold the memories
that will live as long as I.
In memory of Genesse's daughter, Lori Gentry
(2/2/70 to 6/28/91)
Seasons Of The Heart
for Eddie
Your special days are unchanging
Seasons of the heart I celebrate.
Your birth, forever spring,
Tender memories relate,
New and green, a dream
From which too soon I awake.
The summer of your life was bright
Laughter needed no reason,
Seemingly endless days of sharing.
Sixteen summers. Short in season.
Your death brought winter without warning,
What sense in all this can be found?
Summer dreams replaced with mourning.
Where is hope now?
But the heart knows what
The mind cannot accept
That when all is lost,
It is love that is left.
Love knows no barriers
Time or distance recognize.
Love does not diminish,in
But is
constant in our lives.
And
like a summer breeze
Uplifts
and inspires us
With
healing memories.
…by
Peggy Walls, TCF/Alexander City, AL
For her son Eddie (2/18/745——5/30/90)
Grief Is Not...
Grief is not a mountain to be climbed,
with the strong reaching the summit
long before the week.
Grief is not an athletic event,
with stop watches timing our progress.
Grief is a walk through loss and pain
with no competition and no time trials.
Author unknown
How Long Will The Pain Last?
Author Unknown
How
long will the pain last?" a broken hearted
mourner
asked me. "All the rest of your Life." I have
to answer
truthfully. We never quite forget. No matter
how many
years pass, we remember. The loss of a loved
one is like a
major operation. Part of us is removed, and we
have a scar
for the rest of our lives. As years go by, we
manage.
There are things to do, people to care for,
tasks that
call for full attention. But the pain is still
there, not
far below the surface. We see a face that
looks familiar,
hear a voice that echoes, see a photograph in
someone's
album, see a landscape that once we saw
together, and it
seems as though a knife were in the wound
again. But not
so painfully. And mixed with joy, too. Because
remembering
a happy time is not all sorrow, it brings back
happiness with it.
How long will the pain last?
All the rest of your life. But the things to
remember is
that not only the pain will last, but the
blessed memories
as well. Tears are proof of life. The more
love, the more
tears. If this be true, then how could we ever
ask
that the pain cease altogether. For then
the memory of love would go with it.
The pain of grief is the price we pay for
love.
Please See Me Through My Tears
by Kelly Osmont
You asked, "How am I doing?"
As I told you, tears came to my eyes...
and you looked away and quickly began to talk
again.
All the attention you had given me drained
away.
"How am I doing?"...I do better when people
listen,
though I may shed a tear or two.
This pain is indescribable.
If you've never known it you cannot fully
understand.
Yet I need you.
When you look away,
When I'm ignored,
I am again alone with it
Your attention means more than you can ever
know.
Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know!
They're nature's way of helping me to heal...
They relieve some of the stress of sadness.
I know you fear that asking how I'm doing
brings me sadness
...but you're wrong.
The memory of my loved one's death will always
be with me,
Only a thought away.
My tears make my pain more visible to you, but
you did not
give me the pain...it was already there.
When I cry, could it be that you feel
helpless, not knowing
what to do?
You are not helpless,
And you don't need to do a thing but be there.
When I feel your permission to allow my tears
to flow,
you've helped me
You need not speak. Your silence as I cry is
all I need.
Be patient...do not fear.
Listening with your heart to "how I am doing"
relieves the pain,
for when the tears can freely come and go, I
feel lighter.
Talking to you releases what I've been wanting
to say aloud,
clearing space for a touch of joy in my life.
I'll cry for a minute or two...
and then I'll wipe my eyes,
and sometimes you'll even find I'm laughing
later.
When I hold back the tears, my throat grows
tight,
my chest aches, my stomach knots...
because I'm trying to protect you from my
tears.
Then we both hurt...me, because my pain is
held inside,
a shield against our closeness...and you,
because suddenly we're distant.
So please, take my hand and see me through my
tears...
then we can be close again.
THE GRAVE
NOT ATTENDED
~
Author Unknown ~
The day was lovely as I strolled along,
Peering at stones on the way;
And that's when I saw it, that pitiful cross
That looked splintered and faded away.
With flowers in hand to tend Father's grave,
I
knew I must hurry along;
But I couldn't help but linger awhile
At
that cross that just didn't belong.
The date on the front confirmed my
suspicions
Of
what already I knew;
A
child lay beneath that horrible cross
And its faded color of blue.
What selfish parents they must have been
To
bury their child all alone;
Without flowers or candles to light the
night
And not even a simple headstone.
I looked even closer at that awful cross
That was nearly splintered away;
And there on the back, I read the words
That changed me forever that day.
"This cross isn't grand,
But it was carved by my hands;
So
you'll know, son,
How much I care."
"It's the color of blue
To
remind me of you;
And how painful it is
That I'm not there."
"That it's you who is gone
And it's me living on;
While your young life
Has come to an end."
"And I'm left alone,
Never again with a home;
And a grave
That's too painful to tend."
Tears stung my eyes as I looked all around
At
the monuments that ragged cross put to
shame;
And I shared with those parents their
horrible loss
That brought them such terrible pain.
And all the tombstones, some even taller
than me
Suddenly seemed small in a way;
Next to that little handmade cross,
Carved with such love
And the flowers that I planted that day.
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