Listen, gentle people and
hear my truest needs . . .
I hear you stumbling for words. Relax. There are no words . . .
I hear you remembering a funny story about Kyle
and looking embarrassed because you are laughing.
Share with me. Let me laugh.
It gives me something to hold on to in the middle of the night when I feel
only
pain . . .
Be your happy self . . . and let me be me.
On days when I can laugh, I will. On days when I can speak of Kyle,
I need you to share my memories . . .
You don't have to give me answers, for I will learn to live without them.
You don't have to pretend Kyle never existed, thinking I will forget if
you do.
Let me speak his name, and you speak it too.
He is always there, the Kyle I love so deeply, always part of who I am.
If you take that from me, I will be less than who I am.
Adapted from "I want to Help But I don't Know How" by Jacqueline L. Rogers
Comes The Dawn
After awhile you learn the subtle
difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman -- not the grief of a child;
And learn to build all your roads
On today because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain for plans, and futures have
A way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate
Your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers,
And you learn that you really can endure . . .
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn . . .
With every goodbye, you learn.
Author unknown
An Angel Waiting
On a hill in the distance a young
man quietly waits.
Patiently he watches for his family at the gate.
His blue eyes shine so brightly as hope swells within,
for soon he'll see his loved ones and never part again.
How joyeous will be the meeting as mother holds her son,
and father kisses softly the angel --his long lost one.
Once more they'll hold each other, and tears will be no more.
Forever they'll be together as they pass through heaven's door.
Adapted from poem by Cynthia
Clifton
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