She knelt upon her brother’s grave,
My little girl of six years old—
He used to be so good and brave,
The sweetest lamb of all our fold;
He used to shout, he used to sing,
Of all our tribe the little king—
And so unto the turf her ear she laid,
To hark if still in that dark place he play’d.
No sound! no sound!
Death’s silence was profound;
And horror crept
Into her aching heart, and Dora wept.
If this is as it ought to be,
My God, I leave it unto Thee.
(by Thomas Edward Brown)
With you a part of me hath passed away;
For in the peopled forest of my mind
A tree made leafless by this wintry wind
Shall never don again its green array.
Chapel and fireside, country road and bay,
Have something of their friendliness resigned;
Another, if I would, I could not find,
And I am grown much older in a day.
But yet I treasure in my memory
Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease,
And the dear honour of your amity;
For these once mine, my life is rich with these.
And I scarce know which part may greater be,–
What I keep of you, or you rob from me.
(By George Santayana)
Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
You couldn’t just drop in. You had to phone.
He’d put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.
He couldn’t risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he’d hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she’d just popped out to get the tea.
I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven’t both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there’s your name
and the disconnected number I still call.
(by Tony Harrison)
No person is ever truly alone.
Those who live no more,
Whom we loved,
Echo still within our thoughts,
Our words, our hearts.
And what they did
And who they were
Becomes a part of all that we are,
(by Richard Fife)
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.
Memory can tell us only what we were,
In company with those we loved;
It cannot help us find out what each of us,
Alone, must now become.
Yet, no person is really alone;
Those who live no more still echo
Within our thoughts and words,
And what they did has become
Woven into what we are.
(by Richard Fife)
I see you cry, I cry for you.
I see you hurt it hurts me too.
Everyday as you grow worse,
I die inside, as you get hurt.
I wish that I could help you now,
And save you, but I don’t know how.
So we’ll hold hands, in pain forever,
Until the day we die together.
(by Christina Brown)
There is nothing i can do,
to make him come back
There are no words I can say,
that can replace he words you long to hear
There are no answer’s I can give,
that will satisfy your questions
There is not another soul I can introduce you to that will ever replace his
And, there is no love I can offer that will ever replace the love you shared
I can not promise your broken heart will ever be complete
I will not say it could have been worse
I will not deny it was a tragedy
I will not lie and tell you he will come back
He never really left
I do promise he hears you when you speak
I will say he loves you no matter the distance
I will not deny he is in a better place
And, I will not lie; he is waiting to greet you someday
He is every you step you take
He is in everything you do
He is the air you breathe
He is every beat of your heart
” He is like the wind. You can not see him…but you will always feel him”
(by Jennifer Janiszewski)