Poems and Heart Warming Stories
Support From Others
Author Unknown
Don’t tell me that you understand.
Don’t tell me that you know.
Don’t tell me that I will survive,
How I will surely grow.
Don’t come at me with answers
That can only come from me.
Don’t tell me how my grief will pass,
That I will soon be free.
Accept me in my ups and downs.
I need someone to share.
Just hold my hand and let me cry
And say, “My friend, I care.”
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Grieving Time, Time for Love
By Barbara Bergen
If a loved one has departed And left an empty space,
Seek the inner stillness,
Set a slower pace.
Take time to remember,
Allow yourself to cry,
Acknowledge your emotions,
Let sadness pass on by.
Then center in the oneness,
Remember . . . God is here,
Death is but a change in form,
Your loved one is still near.
Treat yourself with kindness,
Allow yourself to feel,
God will do the mending,
And time will help you heal.
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Hugs From Heaven
by Charlotte Anselmo
When you feel a gentle breeze Caress you when you sigh,
It's a hug sent from Heaven,
From a loved one way up high.
If a soft and tender raindrop Lands upon your nose,
They've added a small kiss As fragile as a rose.
If a song you hear fills you
With a feeling of sweet love
It's a hug sent from Heaven
From someone special up above.
If you awaken in the morning To a bluebird's chirping song
It's music sent from Heaven
To cheer you all day long.
If tiny little snowflakes
Land upon your face
It's a hug sent from Heaven
Trimmed with Angel lace.
So keep the joy in your heart If you're lonely my dear friend
Hugs that are sent from Heaven A broken heart will mend.
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My Mom Is A Survivor
My Mom is a survivor, or so I've heard it said.
But I hear her crying at night when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach that never wash away...
I watch over my surviving mom, who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others...a smile of disguise.
But through Heaven's door I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death to keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows it is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom...through Heaven's open door.
I try to tell her that angels protect me forever more.
But I know that doesn't help her or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her...And show her that you care.
For no matter what she says...no matter what she feels?
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal!
- ©Kaye Des'Ormeaux
Dedicated to Clarissa
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If Teardrops were a Stairway...
If we had one lifetime wish
One dream that could come true,
We'd pray to God so hard For yesterday and you.
The things we feel so deeply
Are the hardest things to say.
But we your family, love you in a very special way.
They say memories are golden, well maybe that is true.
But we never wanted memories, We only wanted you.
If teardrops were a stairway
And heartaches made a lane,
We'd walk a path to heaven
And bring you back again.
-Author Unknown
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If You Knew
by Steven Kinworthy
If you knew where I am standing
If you could see the sights I see
If you could hear the angels singing
The songs they sing eternally
If you knew the One I'm holding
Could see the smile He smiles at me
If you knew where I am resting
You would not cry for me
I'm resting in the arms of Jesus
No other place would I rather be
So if you shed a tear
Please don't shed it for me
For if you knew where I am resting
You would not cry for me
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY
By: Mother of Meica Bristol – www.angelchild.com
How do you 'celebrate' the birth date of a child you have lost? Meica's first birthday was a mere month after her death. We had phone calls from family and friends to support us. They asked what we were doing to mark the day.
Not knowing how to mark the day, I had worried about how we would deal with this new situation. The night before, as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I suddenly knew what we should do. We had already planned to attend morning mass, but I suggested to Bill that we go and buy a special candleholder, and burn a candle for Meica all day.
That evening, the calls began to pour in from supportive family and friends. They asked what we had done that day, and we told them about how we had lit a candle for Meica. Most people left the conversation vowing to light one for Meica too. It was comforting to know that we were united in lighting candles for her, and in our thoughts. I envisioned her looking down on us and seeing those candles for her spread across Canada, and how they would look like a birthday cake from up above.
This felt so right. The following year, we posted this in the Memoriam section of the paper, sent out e-mails and faxed others in an invitation to join us in lighting a birthday cake for Meica that she could see from where ever she was.
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Miss Me, But Let Me Go
Author Unknown
When I come to the end of the road,
and the sun has set for me.
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room.
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little—but not too long,
and not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that was once shared.
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take, and each must go alone.
It’s all a part of the master’s plan, a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart, go to the friends we know.
Bear your sorrow in good deeds. Miss me, but let me go.
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Dear Mom and Dad,
I know this is a rough time for you. So I will be as gentle as I can be. First of all, thank you for so many tears, particularly those shared with another that you love. They are a gift to me, a precious tribute to your investment in me.
As you do your mourning, do it at your pace only. Don’t let anybody suggest that you do your grief work on their timetable. Do whatever it takes to face directly the reality of what has happened, even though you may need to pause frequently and yearn for my return. Do this with courage and my blessings. Know that sometimes inertia is the only movement possible.
Give your best to keeping a balance between remembering me and renewing your commitments to life. It’s O.K. with me if you go through minutes, hours and even days not thinking about me. I know that you’ll. Never forget. Loosening me and grabbing hold of a new meaning is a delicate art. I’m not sure if one comes before the other or not, maybe it’s a combination.
Be with people who accept you as you are. Mention my name out loud, and if they don’t make a hasty retreat, they’re probably excellent candidates for friendship.
If, by a remote possibility, you think that there is anything that you could have done for me and didn’t. I forgive you, as my Lord does. Resentment does not abide here, only love.
You know how people sometimes ask you how many children you have? Well, I’m still yours and you are still my parents. Always acknowledge that with tenderness, unless to do so would fall on insensitive ears or would be painful to you. I know how you feel inside.
To be included as your child honors me.
Read, even though your tears anoint the page. There is an immense library here and I have a card. In Henri Nowens’ “Out of Solitude”, he writes, “The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair and confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
Mom and Dad, I don’t know where you are spiritually now, but rest assured that our God is not gone. The still small voice you hear in your heart is His voice. The warmth that sometimes enfolds you is Him. The tears that tremble just beneath your heartbeat is Him.
He is in you, as I am.
I want you both to know that I am O.K. I have sent you messages to ease your pain, they come in the form of flowers that bloom out of season, birds singing, voices and visions and sometimes through your friends and even strangers who volunteer as angels. Stay open but don’t expect the overly dramatic. You will get whet you need and it may be simply an internal peace. You are not crazy, you have been comforted.
Please seek out people bereaved longer than you. They are tellers of truth, and if they have done there work, are an inspiration and a beacon of hope whose pain lessened dramatically and one more wisdom before I close. There are still funny happenings in our world. It delights me to no end when I hear your spontaneous, uncontrolled laughter.
That, too, will come in due time.
Today, I light a candle for you. Joined with your candle, let their light shine above the darkness.
Affectionately, Your Angel child.
PS: I’ll. see you later! - Author Unknown
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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
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By: Debi L. Pettigrew
From: Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul
Do you know of someone
Whose precious child has died?
Perhaps she is a neighbor or friend
With whom you can confide.
You assume that she is suffering
A tragedy so deep,
That there is nothing you can do
Since all she does is weep.
You feel that if you see her
There is nothing you can say
That would make her precious child come back
Or make the pain go away.
And if by chance you meet her
And have to face her grief,
You'll do your very best
To make this meeting brief.
You'll talk about the weather
Or the lady down the lane,
But you'll never mention her child-
That would cause her too much pain! And when the funeral's over,
And all is said and done,
You'll go home to your family,
And she'll be all alone.
She'll go on, she'll be all right, time heals-- Or so it seems,
While she's left alone to pick up the pieces Of her shattered life and dreams. -OR- You can open up your heart And find that special place, Where compassion and true giving Are awaiting your embrace.
"Today I'm thinking of you in a very special way"
Or, how about "I love you!"
Are some loving things to say.
Sometimes a very simple task
Like picking up the phone,
Can help her feel not-so-quite
Desperately alone.
Whatever comes from a genuine heart Cannot be said in vain
For the truth is, it's these very things That lessen her great pain.
And when you let her talk about
Her child who is now dead,
You'll know this is far greater
Than anything you've said.
So will you reach out with all your soul And let her know you care?
For in the end there's no substitute
For simply BEING THERE!
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We Remember Them
In the rising of the sun
and in its going down
we remember them
In the blowing of the wind
and in the chill of winter
we remember them
In the opening of the buds
and in the rebirth of spring
we remember them
In the blueness of the skies
and in the warmth of summer
we remember them
In the rustling of the leaves
and in the beauty of autumn
we remember them
In the beginning of the year
and when it ends
we remember them
When we are weary
and in need of strength
we remember them
When we are lost
and sick of heart
we remember them
When we have joys
and special celebrations we yearn to share
we remember them
So long as we live
they too shall live
for they are part of us.
- Rabbi Gittelsohn
(1910-1995)
Jewish Chaplain of the US Marine Corps.
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To All Parents
I'll lend you for a little time a child of mine," He said,
For you to love the while she lives and mourn for when she's dead.
It may be six or seven years, or twenty-two or three,
But will you, till I call her back, take care of her for me?
She'll bring her charms to gladden you, and shall her stay be brief,
You'll have her lovely memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise she will stay, since all from Earth return,
But there are lessons taught down there I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers true,
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes I have selected you.
Now will you give her all your love, nor think the labor vain,
Nor hate me when I come to call to take her back again?"
I fancied that I heard them say: "Dear Lord, Thy will be done!
For all the joy Thy child shall bring, the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter her with tenderness, we'll love her while we may,
And for the happiness we've known forever grateful stay;
But shall the angels call for her much sooner than we've planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.
- Edgar Guest
