submitted by Connie Davis

Derrick,
I miss you so Much! Everyday I ask Jesus to give me a sign that you are well, safe and in His care. I am So Very grateful that I was chosen to be your Mom, I have Loved you with all my heart. What a Very Special young man you grew to become. My life has been blessed in so many ways, I treasure the 23 years we had and look forward to Eternity with Jesus and you in Heaven.
I Love you so Very Much!! XO, Mom

submitted by 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

submitted by 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!”

submitted by 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

submitted by 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

submitted by 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

by 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

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.

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.

submitted by 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!!!

submitted by Callie Anderson

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

submitted by 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.

submitted by 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?

by 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”

by 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.

by 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.

by 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.

by 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

by 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.

by 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.

by 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

by 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

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.

by 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

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

by 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

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

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.