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  • Sweet Angel of Mine

    Vicki Richter

    My angel, my baby
    You were taken from me
    How can I keep living
    What light can I see?
    Your love was so precious
    Your years were too few
    Our dreams and our plans
    Were just coming true

    They say I can do this
    It only takes time
    They say that one morning
    I’ll wake up and find
    My head is not spinning
    My thoughts are more clear
    I’ll tend to life’s duties
    And feel you are near

    It’ been a full year now
    And I still feel no hope
    I get through each day
    And I still don’t know how
    I’m living life blindly
    With you on my mind
    You’re my heart and my soul
    Sweet angel of mine

    I try not to be angry
    I try not to be sad
    But your heart is my heart
    There’s no peace to be had
    You’re a gift I was given
    How was I to know
    It was for just a short time
    No…I can’t let you go
    The tears I can’t hold back
    The strength I can’t find
    Please come back to me
    Sweet angel of mine

    There’s no rhyme and no reason
    To my life anymore
    My heart knows no season
    My life has been torn
    I read all the books
    I reach for the wise
    I cry oceans of tears
    But my heart only sighs
    For your soul is my soul
    Sweet angel of mine

    Why can’t I turn back
    the pages of time?
    Why can’t I just hold you
    With no end in mind?
    I pray every day
    But still I can’t do it
    I can’t give you up…
    I don’t think I’ll get through it
    You’re my heart and my soul
    Sweet angel of mine

    It’s going to take
    more than just time
    Are you still here beside me?
    Please give me a sign
    I’m asking you now
    Stay close by my side
    Until I learn how to live
    with only part of my soul
    Until I can join you
    And hold you once more

    My love will not waiver
    My love will not dim
    One day again
    Our voices will blend
    Rest easy in God’s arm
    Safe from all harm
    Where you’ll know no more pain
    You’re my heart and my soul
    Sweet angel of mine
    Until I can hold you
    And be whole again

    In loving memory of my daughter Sherena, 9-22-71 to 9-30-05

  • Abracadabra Magic

    Charlene Wexler

    Steve stood back, took a deep breath, and surveyed his handiwork. Red, white, and blue balloons were hanging from the ceiling and scattered throughout the room, tables were covered with July 4th cloths that sparkled from the glitter he had sprinkled across them, and American flags and streamers were ready to be handed out.
    On his makeshift stage there were the tools of his magic tricks: the gold and red velvet wand with its hidden department, his special decks of cards, his multi-colored folding scarves, and his large covered compartment for the spectacular finish to his performance.
    While admiring his new “Abracadabra” sign, he heard loud cooing. Walking over to the back table he removed the cover from the bird’s large golden cage. Flo, a delicate white dove, had been acting stressed all day–cooing continually, hardly eating, and flying around her cage. She had been an expensive addition to his act, but over many performances had proven perfect for his big finale. He hoped she wasn’t sick.
    He glanced at the big wall clock. Soon the children would arrive. He thought he was ready for them, until the doors opened. Instead of the usual entourage of boys and girls dressed in their finest clothes running, jumping, shouting with glee, the children that entered the room moved very slowly; some maneuvering while holding on to IV poles, some in wheel chairs, others on crutches. There was no shouting, or loud talking, but the faces were smiling, and the eyes were looking around the room with delight. What struck him the most were the young boys and girls with bald heads from chemotherapy treatments.
    When he left the house this morning, he had had some doubts about this job. After all, he was giving up a good paying job to do a free show at the children’s hospital oncology floor. Looking at the boys’ and girls’ sad but eager faces, and the tear-stained eyes of the parents and nurses, made him realize this was going to be the most important show of his life.
    The first 40 minutes of Steve’s Abracadabra Show constituted a huge success. The children loved his magic, even though most couldn’t clap enthusiastically. Now he was ready to wham them with his big act.
    Steve stood in front of his audience and announced, “We have come to the big finale of the show. For this act I will need a helper.” Smiling wickedly, he continued, “Now before you put up your hands, I want you to understand that I intend to make my helper disappear. So think before you volunteer.”
    All hands had gone up before he said the thing about making his helper disappear. Now there were only a few hands up. One belonged to a young boy about ten years old. He looked like a bag of bones hanging from a small bald head. His upright hand was being held up by a woman standing next to him, whom Steve assumed was his mother.
    He approached them, and asked her, “Do you think your son could handle standing still for awhile?”
    She answered, “At this stage anything he wants to do is fine.”
    Steve helped him up. “What is your name?” he asked.
    “Jeffery,” the boy answered.
    “Jeffery,” Steve asked, “are you willing to disappear for awhile?”
    With large, sad eyes, he answered, “Yes, I am ready to disappear for a long time.”
    Steve led Jeffery on to the makeshift stage and explained the trick to him, and to the audience.
    “Jeffery, on the stage is a curtained compartment. I am going to put you in the compartment, close all the curtains, say the magic word, and you will turn into a beautiful white dove.
    As Steve led him into the compartment and pulled the curtains around him, Jeffery reached into his pocket and handed Steve a piece of paper. Turning to the audience Steve said, “Now I’m going to say the magic word and Jeffery will become a white dove.” Touching the closed curtain, the magician loudly sang out, “Abracadabra.”
    Smiling he opened the curtains, and out flew Flo, his trusted dove. But instead of landing on his arm as she had done a hundred times before; she kept flying, out the door, and out an open window disappearing from sight. Forgetting about Jeffery, the magician ran out of the room after his trusted bird, but she was long gone.
    When he re-entered the room there was a crowd around someone lying on the floor of the stage. Moving into the circle of people, Steve was horrified when he realized Jeffery had died. Holding him close to her his mother looked up at the magician. With tears in her eyes, she said, “You helped him go. He was so tired of fighting.”
    Steve reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “He gave me this,” Steve said.
    “His poem,” Jeffery’s mother answered, smiling.
    “To live is to be free as a bird.
    To live is to soar through the sky.
    To live is to take the good as it arrives.
    To live is to never have to fight to stay alive.
    To live is to never have to ask why!”

  • Jeff’s Poem

    Jeffery Wexler

    Life is so unfair. One day your living. The next day your not.
    So many problems. When do they stop?
    Or do they keep coming until I rot?
    You gotta Fight! Fight! Fight! To stay alive.

    All the people call to ask about you.
    All they really want to do is to tell their problems too.
    David fell off his bike and sprained his neck.
    Meanwhile our dog is sick at the vet.
    You gotta Fight! Fight! Fight! To survive.
    You gotta Fight! Fight! Fight! To survive.
    I’m not telling you a lie.
    You gotta Fight! Fight! Fight to stay alive.

    So many people don’t understand all the problems you have with man.
    There are people on the street that beg on their knee for something to eat.
    You gotta Fight! Fight! Fight! To survive.
    I’m not telling you a lie.
    You gotta Fight! Fight! Fight! To stay alive.

    Jeffery Wexler
    02/08/1969 to 09/11/1981

  • For Niki

    Ewan Smith

    I dream of an artist’s canvas
    And a palette of all the wonderful things
    A beautiful child could be
    I’d paint compassion, intelligence and sweetness,
    Dancing, shimmering with a spirit that’s free
    Running like the wind and laughing, loving,
    And the freshness of youth swirling from my brush in
    Graceful strokes
    And when my masterpiece is finished,
    Looking out from a contented easel
    I would see the face of our angel once more
    But I awake and the canvas is empty
    The palette only memories
    Painted richly into our aching minds
    Of one so dearly loved,
    But lost

  • Life is Like a Butterfly

    Rebecca Kurth

    Life is like a butterfly,
    Softly, softly…
    One never knows why…
    It touches your cheek, then
    Says, “Goodbye.”
    Fragile and sweet, like
    Blooming flowers
    Life’s loves and trials last only
    the hours
    They touch your heart, then
    Say “goodbye”
    Life is like a butterfly

  • Who You’d Be Today

    Kenny Chesney

    Submitted by: Kathryn

    Sunny days seem to hurt the most
    I wear the pain like a heavy coat
    I feel you everywhere I go

    I see your smile
    I see your face
    I hear you laughing in the rain
    I still can’t believe your gone

    Chorus:
    It ain’t fair
    You died too young
    Like a story that had just begun
    But death tore the pages all away
    God knows how I miss you
    All the hell that I’ve been through
    Just knowing no one could take your place
    Sometimes I wonder
    Who you’d be today

    Would you see the world
    Would you chase your dreams
    Settle down with a family
    I wonder what would you name your babies
    Somedays the sky’s so blue
    I feel like I can talk to you
    I know it might sound crazy

    Chorus:
    It ain’t fair
    You died too young
    Like a story that had just begun
    But death tore the pages all away
    God knows how I miss you
    All the hell that I’ve been through
    Just knowing no one could take your place
    Sometimes I wonder
    Who you’d be today

    Today, today, today

    Today, today, today

    Sunny days seem to hurt the most
    I wear the pain like a heavy coat
    The only thing that gives me hope
    Is I know, I’ll see you again someday

  • Thanks to God

    Author Unknown

    Submitted by: Myra

    I pray that this will bless you as it blessed me.

    Hello God,
    I called tonight
    To talk a little while
    I need a friend who’ll listen
    To my anxiety and trial.
    You see, I can’t quite make it
    Through a day just on my own…
    I need your love to guide me,
    So I’ll never feel alone.
    I want to ask you please to keep
    My family safe and sound.
    Come and fill their lives with confidence
    For whatever fate they’re bound.
    Give me faith, dear God, to face
    Each hour throughout the day,
    And not to worry over things
    I can’t change in any way.
    I thank you God for being home
    And listening to my call,
    For giving me such good advice
    When I stumble and fall.

    Your number, God, is the only one
    That answers every time.
    I never get a busy signal,
    Never had to pay a dime.
    So thank you, God, for listening
    To my troubles and my sorrow.
    Good night, God, I love You too,
    And I’ll call again tomorrow!

    Let all those you love and care about know
    God is there for them always even when
    everyone else has betrayed you and left you.

  • My Angel

    Author Unknown

    Submitted by: David G. Townsend

    Tias Life

    On March 28th Tia was unexpectedly taken from us. Tia was a typical rambunctious young lady. She was filled with dreams of becoming a veterinarian, and helping people. She was shy, sweet, and yet full of spunk. An illustration of her maturity and also her innocence could be summarized in two illustrations. After the Sept. 11th attack, she, two friends and an uncle went around the neighborhood and collected food, which David Townsend (her dad) and they took to the local Gospel Mission. Another time, Tia, while playing with another cousin, Loren Townsend, was seen to be concerned with the welfare of a frog that they were playing with. It seemed in distress so she decided to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
    Tia attended Ridgecrest Elementary School in the Shoreline School District. She enjoyed camping and outings with her cousins, and many friends. Her favorite animals were dogs. She was saving to get a poodle. She had made charts on how much it would cost to feed and provide for the dog. She had thought about the need for a fenced yard, etc.
    She was very concerned that she does the right thing for this dog.
    This is typical of what Tia was like. We love you and will miss you deeply.

    A Tribute to Tia:

    The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper.
    Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, This is for you, Daddy. He was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found the box was empty. He yelled at her, Dont you know when you give someone a present, theres supposed to be something inside it? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, Oh Daddy, its not empty, I blew kisses into the box. All for you, Daddy. The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
    An accident took the life of the child only a short time later and it is told that the man kept that gold box by his bed for many years, and whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
    In a very real sense, each of us as humans, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, friends, family, or God. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.

  • Andrea and Thomas

    Angie Dahl

    My best friend Andrea Ordalen and my classmate Thomas Rauk,
    died in a motorcycle accident, August 22nd, 2001, at 10:30.
    I never really knew what pain really was, until now.
    I was at the scene of the accident and I’ll never forget the words the police officers told us
    “there were no survivors”, that’s the worst info to EVER hear.
    From that point on, I’ll never be the same.
    I told Andrea EVERYTHING, now who do I turn to?
    Thomas and I were really close.
    They were both liked by allot of people and were both going somewhere in life,
    and making a difference in allot of people’s lives.
    I would do ANYTHING to have them back, I ask that question why? allot.
    I just hope no one has to ever go though this pain at the young age that I am.
    I’m 20, and I’ve lost 4 friends already.
    I have learned allot from all of this, the hard way.
    I just wanted everyone to know, “NO FIGHT IS WORTH IT”.
    I left Andrea and Thomas on good terms, but it would be awful if I didn’t.
    I spend allot of time with Andrea’s family, my friends, and my family,
    there is no way I would be getting though this without them,
    so they all make me realize how much friendship means, and what it’s worth to me.
    All I can say is, I now have 2 more angle’s watching over and protecting me!!!
    I LOVE AND MISS YOU BOTH TONS!!!!!
    RIP, Andrea and Thomas!!!

  • Flower

    Callie Anderson

    This little flower was given to me to bud on earth,
    and bloom in Heaven.

  • Understanding

    Shirley Saum

    I used to wonder what was meant by keening.
    I remember reading about Indian mothers and grandmothers
    keening when a son or husband was killed in battle.
    When my grandson died, I knew exactly what it was.
    I howled in rage and grief.
    I keened with tears streaming down my face.
    I finally understood what the term keening meant.
    It means your heart is breaking and you will never be quite the same.

  • The Woodpecker, In Memory of Nolan

    Liz Karels

    I watched in amazement at the woodpecker from my window.
    Daily, steadily, routinely, monotonously,
    he drilled away at the hardwoods;
    looking for food, looking for life.
    God gave the woodpecker his hard beak to find life.

    Just because I’m walking, talking, working,
    doesn’t mean I’m not hanging on by a thread looking for life
    in this strange new world without my son.

    God gave the woodpecker his tough beak
    because the woodpecker’s life would depend on it.
    What is my beak made of?
    Will it be strong enough now?

  • The Grief Quilt

    Mitch Carmody

    Those suffering souls with broken hearts
    meet and share with one another
    expressing the pain of their bereavement
    to try to heal and give comfort to each other

    We meet in anguish from our losses
    tears ready to flow from our eyes
    discussing the most painful parts of our lives
    trying to find answers to the what ifs and whys

    We confront the devastating reality
    rubbing salt in our gaping wounds
    trying to live when we want to die
    together in this grief filled room

    We examine each others pain
    each story a world apart
    yet so close in emotional impact
    we find comradery form the start

    We are everywhere from all walks of life
    grieving for our loved one who as died
    losing a son or daughter
    on whose love we had relied

    We would like to curl up in a ball
    fade out and find relief
    but there is are others that rely on us
    who are suffering in their grief

    Be compassionate and show others your heart
    give love and it returns
    help with the conditions of other’s mourning
    and ease their soul that aches and burns

    We know all too well
    the pain they feel is real
    together we can hold their hand
    so their sorrow can too can begin to heal

    That is why we are here together
    as we share our tender moments
    we can scream and cry, laugh or rage
    expressing the emotions of our laments

    In giving we shall receive
    and forget our pain for awhile
    be able to laugh again
    and attempt and honest smile

    This is not an easy task
    for our energy is constantly drained
    we have to be selfish and good to ourselves
    or lose anything we have gained

    We can only give what we have
    so let yourself receive
    let people know of your pain
    show them that you still grieve

    Even good people tend to forget
    not seeing things with our eyes
    their ears don’t hear what we hear
    they do not perceive our inner cries.

    Some people are helpful, some are not
    we have to pick and choose
    catch a stranger unawares
    and unload your pent-up blues.

    Openly weep your sorrow
    express that anger that lies inside
    explore every avenue you can
    find those fears that tend to hide

    Talk about IT whenever you can
    for IT colors your very being
    every atom of your essence
    that affects the way you are seeing

    A cloak of intangible thickness ad depth
    a patchwork of pain that covers our soul
    it’s pure weight drains us down
    and begins to take its toll

    It is an overwhelming blanket
    this grief quilt that we wear
    but it will and does get lighter
    if we let go of guilt and fear.

    Fear that we shall never recover
    that we shall always feel like this
    guilt of letting go of the pain
    of our loved one we so dearly miss.

    Guilt for being angry with God
    fear we did something wrong
    how could He be so cruel
    and give us such pain for so long?

    It is a Herculean task we are asked to do
    that takes time and many tears
    but being here shows you want to heal
    in the coming weeks, months, and years.

    God bless you all

    Mitch Carmody
    author of “Letters To My Son”

  • No Limit

    John P. Keltgen

    From the time Mike was five,
    he’d be up ‘fore the sun.
    He’d grab his big brother,
    then he’d grab his gun.
    Hunkered down in the cold,
    ‘neath that old lilac bush.
    With his pellet gun he’d wait
    no matter how cold my toosh.
    When he got older,
    his habits didn’t change.
    Still up with the sun,
    But chasing bigger game.
    Sometimes with a shotgun,
    Sometimes with a bow.
    In a field or a tree,
    Up high or down low.
    No weather could stop him,
    a true hunter he was.
    If asked why he did it,
    He’d respond, “Just because.”
    As autum approached,
    he’d pick up his call.
    Geese were his favorite,
    he’d sit in the fields come fall.
    Then one tragic night,
    the hunts they would cease.
    With one little slip,
    We’d hunt no more geese.
    But then as I thought,
    “Where will Mikey sit?”
    I knew without question,
    The hunting ground with no limit.

  • The Next Place, In Memory of Adam Hawker

    Warren Hudson

    Submitted by: Lori Hawker

    The next place that I go
    will be as peaceful and familiar
    as a sleepy summer Sunday
    and a sweet untroubled mind.
    And yet…
    it won’t be anything
    like any place I’ve ever been…
    or seen…
    or even dreamed of
    in the place I leave behind.
    I won’t know where I’m going,
    and I won’t know where I’ve been
    as I tumble through the always
    and look back toward the when.
    I’ll glide beyond the rainbows.
    I’ll drift above the sky.
    I’ll fly into the wonder,
    without ever wondering why.
    I won’t remember getting there,
    Somehow I’ll just arrive.
    But I’ll know I belong there
    and will feel much more alive
    than I have ever felt before.
    I will be absolutely free of the things that I held onto
    that were holding on to me.
    The next place that I go
    will be so quiet and so still
    that the whispered sond of sweet belonging
    will rise up to fill the listening sky with joyful silence,
    and with unheard harnonies of music by no one playing,
    like a hush upon the breeze.
    There will be no room for darkness
    in that place of living light,
    Where and ever-dawning morning
    pushes back the dying night.
    The very air will fill with brillance,
    as the brightly shining sun
    And the moon and half a million stars
    are married into one.
    The next plae that I go won’t really be a place at all.
    There won’t be any seasons-
    winter, summer, spring or fall-
    Nor a Monday,
    Nor a Friday,
    Nor December,
    Nor July.
    And the seconds will be standing still…
    while hours hurry by.
    I will not be a boy or girl,
    a woman or a man.
    I’ll simply be just,
    simply, me.
    Nor worse nor better than.
    My skin will not be dark or light.
    I won’t be fat or tall.
    The body I once lived in
    won’t be part of me at all.
    I will finally be perfect.
    I will be without a flay.
    I will never make one more mistake,
    or break the smallest law.
    And the me that was impatient,
    or was angry or unkind,
    will simply be a memory.
    The me I left behind.
    I will travel empty-handed.
    There is not a single thing I have collected in my life
    that I would ever want to bring except…
    The love of those who loved me,
    and the warmth of those who cared.
    The happiness and memories
    and magic that we shared.
    Though I will know the joy of solitude…
    I’ll never be alone.
    I’ll be embraced by all the family and friends I’ve ever known.
    Although I might not see their faces,
    all our hearts will beat as one,
    And the circle of our spirits
    will shine brighter than the sun.
    I will cherish all the friendship
    I was fortunate to find,
    all the love and all the laughter
    in the place I leave behind.
    All the good things will go with me.
    They will make my spirit glow.
    And that light will shine forever in the next place that I go.

    This is a book that I got for my children after their uncle, Adam Hawker’s death on April 13, 2002. We all miss you terribly and hope that you are finally at peace.

  • When Tomorrow Starts Without Me

    Sarina Blaschko

    In Memory of Matt Bisch

    When tomorrow starts without me,
    And I’m not there to see,
    If the sun should rise and find your eyes 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 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. And 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 all of 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 a while,
    I’d say good-bye 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 alone.
    But then I saw Corey and Katie
    And that made me feel more at home.
    I took a glance behind me and saw Craig come through.
    I didn’t know what to say,
    or even what to do.
    I just stood there staring at them and said, “This is your home Too?”
    What the hell is going on and is this really true?
    God, could you answer all my questions please,
    before I turn blue?
    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 for life on earth is past,
    But here it 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’ve been so faithful,
    So trusting and so true.
    Though there were times you did some things
    You knew you shouldn’t do.
    And just to let you know,
    I am saying this to each and every one of you!
    But you have been forgiven
    and now at last you’re free.
    So won’t you take my hand?
    And share your life with me?”
    So when tomorrow starts without me,
    Don’t think we’re far apart.
    For everytime you think of me,
    I’m right here in your heart.

  • Mother

    Manpreet Gill

    She is beautiful, so very beautiful
    Just like a winters shining landscape
    As freely as the eagle soaring against the blue.
    Her eyes are as mysterious as the calm sea
    Everything about her is so very precious
    More precious than all the gems in the world
    Her sole is the essence of the sky and earth
    Her feelings are a volcano that is yet to explode
    Her smile is the smile of lost innocence
    Pain vibrates deep inside of her gentle heart
    A lock shuts in the disturbed thoughts of her mind
    A mind with as many roads as the world
    has I look at her and I see a pure truth
    Like looking at a clear night sky
    Millions of stars twinkle within her
    She is beauty as I defined it
    She is perfect, her imperfections make her so
    She is my best friend,
    and I love her I love her although, not because
    And I would give up all the things which I think are pretty
    If only I can hold her beauty within me
    For she is everything in this world
    And I have found a world inside of her

  • Please Wait for Me

    Brooke Atwood

    Please wait for me at every sea.
    Please wait for me, and you will see.
    Please wait for me, and we will be.
    Wait at Heavens gates for me.
    Please make God see we need to be.
    Please make God see that I am me.
    Please make God take my sins from me.
    Please, so that we will be.
    Wait at Heavens gates for me.
    Please make me choose the right choices I need.
    Please let me for fill my dreams.
    Please, so we will be.
    Wait at Heavens gates for me.
    Please wait for me at every night.
    Please wait for me so we can talk.
    Please wait for me, for I may cry.
    Please wait so we will be.
    Wait at Heavens gates for me.
    Please make me a good wife.
    Please made me a good mother.
    Please make me just like you, my brother.
    Please wait for me, and you will see.
    Please wait at Heavens gates for me.
    I love you, and you love me,
    So would you please wait for me,
    and when the day comes that we will be,
    please be at Heavens gates waiting for me.

    Please Buckle Up: In Memory
    of my brother Dustin Scott Atwood 17,
    who passed away August 30th, 2001.

  • Gunsmoke

    Nathan West

    Submitted by: Deb Gintner

    December 1st, a day of tears-
    A day of smiles, a day of fears.
    On this day I reminisce
    On the pain of the prior year-
    On that day in ’97-
    My companion Aaron left for Heaven.
    He raised his answer to his eyes-
    He was a victim of his own demise.
    Mourners gathered in the days that followed-
    Forgetting lessons but homage
    To the half he left behind.
    What pain must stir inside her mind,
    But I find joy when I remember,
    The fun times before that cold December.
    Most evident in my mind
    Is the day before we sang together.
    Rest in peace, Aaron-
    May your suicide not taint
    The joy you brought to all
    Whose hearts you brought to life.

  • To Be Exact

    Pat Saum

    TO BE EXACT It is 4:45 in the afternoon
    And I am feeling the heavy weight of your absence.
    It’s that and so many other things
    Like the brother of one of your friends
    I saw in the grocery store
    as I came to the checkout counter
    with 4 roses hand selected by your sister.
    He kidded me about buying roses,
    not realizing they were for you (or should I say your grave site).
    Or the three people who did remember to call
    but forgot which day you died.
    It was August 16th and it was 3:20PM
    AND
    it was 89 degrees
    AND
    I was wearing a denim shirt
    with a red tie
    and khaki pants

  • The Tears That Fell From My Eyes Were For You

    Dana Miller

    I never thought it could ever happen.
    We were suposta stick together;
    forever friends, you had always said.
    But the day that you left my life my friend,
    the tears fell from my eyes like a waterfall.
    It was all like such a nightmare to me.
    You were so beautiful and full of life.
    You had a future, you needed to raise your son,
    I counted on you to be my best friend forever.
    But all in the blink of an eye you were gone right
    before my own two eyes,
    just like that.
    How could this be; I just don’t understand.
    So many questions left unanswered.
    But the biggest question of all, is why would someone do this to you.
    You didn’t deserve to get you life cut short.
    He had no right.
    Even thought time has passed, I still think about you everyday.
    The tears still fall from my eyes for you.
    I still love you the same my friend.
    A poem for coco

  • Please Let Me Mourn

    Author Unknown

    I’ve never lost a child before, and I don’t
    understand all these emotions I am feeling.
    Will you try to understand and help me?
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    I may act and appear together, but I am not.
    Often it hurts so much I can hardly bear it.
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    Don’t expect too much from me. I will try
    to help you know what I can and cannot handle.
    Sometimes I am not always sure.
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    Let me talk about my child. I need to talk,
    it’s part of the healing. Don’t pretend nothing
    has happened, it hurts terribly when you do.
    I love my child very much, and my memories
    are all I have now. They are very precious to me.
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    Sometimes I cry and act differently,
    but it’s all part of grieving. My tears are
    necessary and needed and should not be held back.
    It even helps when you cry with me.
    Please don’t fear my tears.
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    What I need most is your friendship, your sympathy,
    your prayers, your support, and your understanding love.
    I am not the same person I was before my child died
    and I never will be again.
    Hopefully we can all grow from this tragedy.
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    God gives me the strength to face each day
    and the hope that I will survive with His help
    and yours. Time will heal some of the pain,
    but there will always be an empty place in my heart.
    PLEASE LET ME MOURN

    And Thank You for helping me through the most
    difficult time of my life.

  • The Little Prince

    Barb R.

    In one of the stars I shall be living
    In one of them I shall be laughing
    And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing
    When you look at the sky at night

  • Letter from Heaven

    Author Unknown

    Submitted by: Kathryn Block

    To my dearest family, some things I’d like to say.
    But first of all, to let you know, that I arrived okay.
    I’m writing this from heaven.
    Here I dwell with God above.
    Here, there’s no more tears of sadness; Here is just eternal love.
    Please do not be unhappy just because I’m out of sight.
    Remember that I am with you every morning, noon and night.
    That day I had to leave you when my life on earth was through.
    God picked me up and hugged me and He said, “I welcome you.
    It’s good to have you back again, you were missed while you were gone.
    As for your dearest family, They’ll be here later on.
    I need you here badly, you’re part of my plan.
    There’s so much that we have to do, to help our mortal man.”
    God gave me a list of things, that he wished for me to do.
    And foremost on the list, was to watch and care for you.
    And when you lie in bed at night the day’s chores put to flight.
    God and I are closest to you….in the middle of the night.
    When you think of my life on earth, and all those loving years.
    Because you are only human, they are bound to bring you tears.
    But do not be afraid to cry: it does relieve the pain.
    Remember there would be no flowers, unless there was some rain.
    I wish that I could tell you all that God has planned.

    If I were to tell you, you wouldn’t understand.
    But one thing is for certain, though my life on earth is over.
    I’m closer to you now, than I ever was before.
    There are many rocky roads ahead of you and many hills to climb;
    But together we can do it by taking one day at a time.
    It was always my philosophy and I’d like it for you too;
    That as you give unto the world, the world will give to you.

    If you can help somebody who’s in sorrow and pain;
    Then you can say to God at night……”My day was not in vain.”
    And now I am contented….that my life was worthwhile.
    Knowing as I passed along the way I made somebody smile.
    So if you meet somebody who is sad and feeling low;
    Just lend a hand to pick him up, as on your way you go.
    When you’re walking down the street and you’ve got me on your mind;
    I’m walking in your footsteps only half a step behind.
    And when it’s time for you to go….from that body to be free.
    Remember you’re not going…..you’re coming here to me

  • Adriannah

    Alicia Hitzler

    You were always so quick to smile and forgive though you had so much pain, you encouraged others in so many ways without saying a word, you have aided others to see life through new eyes.

    You’ve shown us how to live life to the fullest and reach for the stars, you’ve lived through the unlivable and all the while filled with an inextinguishable light, one that shone through you and onto all those who love you, this, your everlasting light.

    Your struggles seem so unfair as the infinite and intangible gifts you gave seem to outnumber those you received in return.

    There must be a plan for you, for I knew from the beginning you have been chosen, You’ve made us understand that life is not perfect, that there is so much for us to learn, that there are so many reasons for us to love, and to live.

    I pray that you now know days that hold no pain, that you never remember the pain of your days with us here on earth, though you were never one to complain.

    You are and have always been my inspiration, my reason for living, my courage, my brilliant ray of light saving me from the dark. You’re proof to me that life is worth living.

    And So My Dear Adriannah I say farewell and I will see you soon as you leave us for those you have always resembled most, the angels..

    Always and Forever Loving You,

    Your mommy

  • A Poem for Weezy

    From: his boy Rickey

    God looked around His projects
    and found an empty place
    He then looked down on earth
    and saw your tired face
    He put His arms around you
    and lifted you to rest
    God’s projects must be tough,
    He always takes the best
    He saw the road was getting rough
    The hills were harder to climb
    So He closed your weary eyes and whispered
    “Peace be Thine”
    It broke our hearts to lose you
    But you didn’t go alone
    For parts of us went with you
    The day God called you home

    R.I.P.Weezy 11/23/2005

  • The Cruel Club

    Charlene Wexler

    By, Charlene Wexler

    Last night, my best friend’s son died. She has a large, loving family and they were with her at the hospital. But she has turned to me for her main support, because she knows I understand what lay ahead for her. Unfortunately, she has joined a club of which I have been a member for more nearly 30 years. It is a cruel club I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It is the club of mothers who have lost a child.

    I stayed up most of the night after leaving the hospital, thinking about the son I lost and about what I would say to my friend. She has been my support through the years. She has seen me go on vacations, go to parties, laugh, and have fun. Now she will realize that I was really a big fake since that awful day in 1981.

    She will never be the same person, because there will be a hole in her heart and part of her mind will shut down forever. In the beginning days and months she will think of her child constantly. She will be driving and pull over because she will have no idea where she is going. She will be in the grocery store and have to abandon her cart and leave, because some food will remind her of him. She will have no idea why some people will ignore her, or stop talking when she enters a room.

    Most people are scared of death, and the death of a child is the worst thing that can happen. Others just don’t know what to say to you. We are creatures of habit. We have been taught that the natural order of life is for the parent to die before the children.

    Friends will always ask you, “How are you?’ and you will look at them strangely. You may answer “fine,” while you are really thinking, “How do you think I am after being hit by a train?’

    People will tell you that it will get better with time. It does get better, because you soon realize you have two choices: to go crazy, or to try to function. Because after a few months, society forgets and expects you to get back to normal. So you will start living again, and then a holiday or his birthday will come around, or God forbid someone else’s child will die, and the wound will open up and the flood of tears will come again.

    Because you’re a member of the Cruel Club. And you can never leave.