Sometimes I ramble this way....
----
Spring is here. You are not.
Time my dear, doesn't change the way I miss you always.
I miss you, outside of time.
I love you.
And love is outside of time.
Therefore, time does not "heal" this wound, this ache, this longing...
And I'm okay with that.
Because, I know,
it's just love. I'm just loving you.
With ache, longing, and sorrow
and lament for all the days, that were not given to you.
And I know, I'm supposed to.
You were mine. You were ours. And we hold your blessing to us always.
Even if it is sometimes only through tears, that we can show
how much,
you are still wanted, still loved, always missed.
And we won't carry your blessing lightly,
we will work, to keep your name shining,
and turn your briefness here into long blessings flowing forward
as a reflection of our Love for you,
love, outside of time.
-------
Written last year;
Marie and her friend
Somewhere today
Two little girls went to play
One never came home
They played deep in the woods
Safe and free
Safe and free
A place that now, this one little girl will forever be
She is now safe
She is now free
The woods and the world are empty and alone
Dark and sad
Two little girls playing
One went home
---------------------
Hollowness
Empty baby arms
Noticeably empty
But only for those
Who know
Who knew
Who loved
Still holding a baby
That is not there
Hollowness
The wind blows through
The empty hollowness
Noticeable to souls that see
The pained, pained souls
That know and see
And feel the same wind
Blow and howl through the empty hollow space
Where a child used to be
----
----
Spring is here. You are not.
Time my dear, doesn't change the way I miss you always.
I miss you, outside of time.
I love you.
And love is outside of time.
Therefore, time does not "heal" this wound, this ache, this longing...
And I'm okay with that.
Because, I know,
it's just love. I'm just loving you.
With ache, longing, and sorrow
and lament for all the days, that were not given to you.
And I know, I'm supposed to.
You were mine. You were ours. And we hold your blessing to us always.
Even if it is sometimes only through tears, that we can show
how much,
you are still wanted, still loved, always missed.
And we won't carry your blessing lightly,
we will work, to keep your name shining,
and turn your briefness here into long blessings flowing forward
as a reflection of our Love for you,
love, outside of time.
-------
Written last year;
Marie and her friend
Somewhere today
Two little girls went to play
One never came home
They played deep in the woods
Safe and free
Safe and free
A place that now, this one little girl will forever be
She is now safe
She is now free
The woods and the world are empty and alone
Dark and sad
Two little girls playing
One went home
---------------------
Hollowness
Empty baby arms
Noticeably empty
But only for those
Who know
Who knew
Who loved
Still holding a baby
That is not there
Hollowness
The wind blows through
The empty hollowness
Noticeable to souls that see
The pained, pained souls
That know and see
And feel the same wind
Blow and howl through the empty hollow space
Where a child used to be
----
Two Months or Twenty Years
(ask any parent missing their child)
When I became a "heart mom,"
my biggest hope
was that my child would have at least 20 good years
my biggest worry
was how would we ever be able to say
goodbye?
And now, that she is gone and she is gone
I sit and think, oh but what it means to loose a child
at any age
What a parent whose baby didn't make it to birth
would have given to hold the little life,
even for a moment
in their arms.
Or a mother who could only hold their baby for a few days or hours
saying a simultaneous hello and goodbye
wouldn't give
to have had two months, or four,
or a little more
(please, God, just a little more)
Or the 18 month old who never turned 2;
the five year old who never saw 10;
the 19 year old,
just shy of 20.
To a mother and father
who's lost a child
at any age
by any cause
since death is death
and gone is gone,
they lost a whole life.
All the past, the present and the visions of time ahead
are now cherished places
in a house built of memories and dreams
established on a sunny hill
inside the hearts of a mother and father
All the rooms that once held so much joy, all the days behind
sit silent
and, with a "click,"
go dark
Each new day is a room that will never be used
all these rooms
sit empty and dark
with light switches
never to flip on...
When a child dies, at any age
there is an enormous house constructed in-full
(ask any parent missing their child)
When I became a "heart mom,"
my biggest hope
was that my child would have at least 20 good years
my biggest worry
was how would we ever be able to say
goodbye?
And now, that she is gone and she is gone
I sit and think, oh but what it means to loose a child
at any age
What a parent whose baby didn't make it to birth
would have given to hold the little life,
even for a moment
in their arms.
Or a mother who could only hold their baby for a few days or hours
saying a simultaneous hello and goodbye
wouldn't give
to have had two months, or four,
or a little more
(please, God, just a little more)
Or the 18 month old who never turned 2;
the five year old who never saw 10;
the 19 year old,
just shy of 20.
To a mother and father
who's lost a child
at any age
by any cause
since death is death
and gone is gone,
they lost a whole life.
All the past, the present and the visions of time ahead
are now cherished places
in a house built of memories and dreams
established on a sunny hill
inside the hearts of a mother and father
All the rooms that once held so much joy, all the days behind
sit silent
and, with a "click,"
go dark
Each new day is a room that will never be used
all these rooms
sit empty and dark
with light switches
never to flip on...
When a child dies, at any age
there is an enormous house constructed in-full
out of the materials of memories and dreams
complete, whole, and entire
but dark
and empty
where love will always visit
(and sadness forever dwell)
----------
Notes: This was written while thinking about Marie, just shy of 20, my sister-in-law and my daughter, just shy of two months - and the common ground I share with my mother-in-law even as our losses are different. I reflected after I wrote that, that "death is death and it all goes down the same drain" and there is common ground there for all parents who loose their child - no matter the age of the child.
complete, whole, and entire
but dark
and empty
where love will always visit
(and sadness forever dwell)
----------
Notes: This was written while thinking about Marie, just shy of 20, my sister-in-law and my daughter, just shy of two months - and the common ground I share with my mother-in-law even as our losses are different. I reflected after I wrote that, that "death is death and it all goes down the same drain" and there is common ground there for all parents who loose their child - no matter the age of the child.
Several months later, we'd find ourselves looking at another house gone dark. Marie's brother would take his life. And now, three houses sit on their hills and the sight is so desperately harsh -each place I visit was a whole, entire person that I cared about so much. That so many cared for - so very much. So much.
