1.
They say there is a reason,
They say that time will heal,
But neither time nor reason,
Will change the way I feel,
For no-one knows the heartache,
That lies behind our smiles,
No-one knows how many times,
We have broken down and cried,
We want to tell you something,
So there won't be any doubt,
You're so wonderful to think of,
But so hard to be without.


2.
We couldn't wait to hold you
And see your pretty face.
To count you little fingers,
And check your toes are in their place.
It should have been the happiest day
To remember all our life.
But joy had turned to heartache,
No breath, no beat, no life.
We will never see you smile,
Or hear your hearty cry.
We will never be able to dry your tears,
Or share your happy times.
Our precious little Angel,
We will always know your face.
In our hearts and stars forever,
You will always have a place

 

Richard,

I am reading a book written by a friend of a friend Titled
“By Grief Transformed”
Dreams and the mourning process
By Susan Olsen

In one of the chapters she quotes

Anne McCracken and Mary Semel from their work “A Broken Heart Still Beats”

“Mary and I have come to believe that comfort, such as it is, derives from recognizing that others before us, many others have felt this very pain, struggle with the same questions, and reluctantly have given up the lives they too have counted on. In this sense, misery does love company. It is not that we wish this pain on anyone, not Winston Churchill or Samuel Clemens, who both lost daughters; or Robert Frost, who incredibly lost four of his six children. However, we do welcome the painful truth that they were once as devastated as we, and yet found the courage to stay productive in this world. That Robert Frost got out of bed every morning, let alone wrote notable poetry, is nothing short of inspiring.”

 

I lost my first-born daughter at age 46 to pancreas cancer. Her mother only lived to be 47, killed while riding in my best friends car. My grief will NEVER end! I still have visions of my wife Mary driving down the road with little Debbie, both of them with flying hair, in our 1948 MG-TC. We had a brand new Furd convertible but my gals liked the little roadster better!

Sleep dear ones......

--Don

 

time makes the pain bearable it does not take it away. The ones who left us stay with us forever. Small things always take us back. That's part of life I guess.