~Author Unknown
You know that I am grieving;
That my pain is deep and real.
Your hurtful words pierced like a knife.
How do you think I feel?
You may not suffer from my loss
Or share this lonely grief;
But I'm mourning my baby,
Who's life was much too brief.
I'm sure you don't know how I feel,
I don't expect you to.
Don't ask me to get over it...
That's something I can't do.
Without grief, there's no healing.
Its a journey I must make.
Its not the path that I would choose,
But one I'm forced to take.
No matter how you choose to see
What I am going through,
I need compassion and support...
I'd do the same for you.
Written by Gwen Flowers
for her angels Hannah, Skylar and Jordan
Remembering
Go ahead and mention my child,
the one that died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.
Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
the tears that I try so hard to hide.
I hurt more when you just keep silent,
pretending she didn't exist.
I'd rather you mention my child,
knowing that she is greatly missed.
You asked how I was doing.
I say "pretty good" or "fine."
But healing is something ongoing.
I feel it will take a lifetime.
© Elizabeth Dent
Please See Me Through My Tears
© Kelly Osmont
You asked, "How am I doing?"
As I told you, tears came to my eyes...
and you looked away and quickly began to talk again.
All the attention you had given me drained away.
"How am I doing?"...I do better when people listen,
though I may shed a tear or two.
This pain is indescribable.
If you've never known it you cannot fully understand.
Yet I need you.
When you look away,
When I'm ignored,
I am again alone with it.
Your attention means more than you can ever know.
Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know!
They're nature's way of helping me to heal...
They relieve some of the stress of sadness.
I know you fear that asking how I'm doing brings me sadness
...but you're wrong.
The memory of my loved one's death will always be with me,
Only a thought away.
My tears make my pain more visible to you,
but you did not give me the pain...
it was already there.
When I cry, could it be that you feel helpless,
not knowing what to do?
You are not helpless,
and you don't need to do a thing but be there.
When I feel your permission to allow my tears to flow,
you've helped me.
You need not speak.
Your silence as I cry is all I need.
Be patient...do not fear.
Listening with your heart to "how I am doing" relieves the pain,
for when the tears can freely come and go,
I feel lighter.
Talking to you releases what I've been wanting to say aloud,
clearing space for a touch of joy in my life.
I'll cry for a minute or two...
and then I'll wipe my eyes,
and sometimes you'll even find I'm laughing later.
When I hold back the tears, my throat grows tight,
my chest aches, my stomach knots...
because I'm trying to protect you from my tears.
Then we both hurt...
me, because my pain is held inside
a shield against our closeness
...and you, because suddenly we're distant.
So please, take my hand and see me through my tears...
then we can be close again.
"Once upon a time there was a family with seven
daughters.
"When the eldest daughter became twenty,
"As the years passed, each girl received a quilt on
her 20th birhtday.
"Finally the big day arrived, her 20th birthday.
"There were so many questions running through her
mind.
"There is no ending--yet.
All were charming and fair and very close to their family, especially their grandmother.
She was a wise, delightful woman who had taken the time to be with each granddaughter
and loved each one immensely.
the grandmother showed up early in the day to greet her
with a beautiful package
--a large box covered in white shiny paper and a sparkling gold bow.
The granddaughter ripped open the package hastily
and uncovered a priceless treasure.
Underneath the tissue was a linen quilt,
hand-stitched with homemade lace, appliqué,
and with her name embroidered in silk.
All of the daughters were amazed
and the birthday girl cried as she hugged her grandmother
who had put so much time and love into this masterpiece.
Most of the granddaughters cherished the gift,
but several took it for granted
and neglected to care for it as they should.
But the next to the youngest daughter,
who had quite a special relationship with her grandmother,
longed for the day she turned twenty.
She had spent hours dreaming of her quilt
and sharing her plans with her grandmother.
She planned to save her gift for her wedding day
and then to use it on her first bed.
Later she would pass it on to her children,
and they would pass it on to the next generation.
Sure enough the doorbell rang
and in walked her beloved grandparent.
But instead of a big beautiful box,
she had something unexpected in her arms...
two long wooden beams and a stack of material.
With a warm hug, she whispered to the child,
'I have something extra special for you!'
The granddaughter felt her face flush and her heart sink--
where was her quilt?
The grandmother explained,
'I want to teach you so many things,
not just about quilting
but I want this time togehter to share with you
the wisdom of my years.
Let's work on this together.'
The young girl feigned appreciation,
took the gift, and quickly went to her room
where she sobbed uncontrollably.
She was so angry and disappointed.
She threw the quilt frame and scraps into the corner,
covered them with an old blanket
and vowed that she would never accept this.
Why did her grandmother pick on her?
She hadn't made the others work for their quilt.
Did she really consider this a gift?
And the other sisters--ugh.
It seemed they would all feel sorry for her now.
Why?
Why?
Why?
When she was the one
who had taken care of her grandmother last spring?
Why, when on of her sisters
had even lost her gift at college last year?
Worse yet, as the days wore on,
no one seemed to understand and she avoided it all--
the items under the blanket in the corner
and her grandmother,
who visited asking her when they could get started...
It is up to you.
The moral of the story is that
many women received the beautiful gift of a child
and take it for granted or even abuse it.
When we conceive
it is natural to expect what everyone else receives,
a healthy child.
But for whatever reason we were chosen.
You were chosen to be the mother of your child.
God is offering you not only the gift of a child
but also a time of intimate training,
guided by His loving hand.
He wants you to sit down with Him and the scraps
and He'll show you how to piece them together."
