Falling Apart
By: Eloise Cole
  Please See Me Through My Tears
By: Kelly Osmont
  Seasons of Grief 
By: Josee Moore © 2007
Death is Nothing at All
By: Henry Scott Holland
  Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
By: Mary Elizabeth Frye

Falling Apart
By: Eloise Cole

I seem to be falling apart.
My attention span can be measured in seconds,
My patience in minutes,
I cry at the drop of a hat
I forget things constantly
The morning toast burns daily.
I forget to sign checks; half of everything in the house is misplaced.
Feelings of anxiety and restlessness are my constant companions.
Rainy days seem extra dreary
Sunny days seem an outrage,
Other people's pain and frustrations seem insignificant.
Laughing, happy people seem out of place in my world.
It has become routine to feel half crazy.
“I am normal,” I am told.
“I am a newly grieving person.”


Please See Me Through My Tears
By: Kelly Osmont

You asked, "How are you 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 had 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,
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
....but you are 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 wanted 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 are distant.

So please, take my hand and see me through my tears...
then we can be close again.


Seasons of Grief  
By: Josee Moore © 2007

Green were the grasses the day I first heard
Like razor blade cuts came each solemn word
The sun rose on high yet I could not see
My heart sank so low as death spoke to me

Blood still ran cold as leaves turned to red
Wrapped in my quilt forlorn in my bed
Tear stained and damp from where I had wept
My tatty old pillow shared memories I kept

A blanket of white soon covered the hills
While thoughts of his passing still gave me the chills
No more could I feel nor could I perceive
A life without him, how long shall I grieve?

One day in the snow, a crocus I saw
The sun rose again to help the stream thaw
Seeds on the wind soon took root to bloom
While spirits gave rise to cast off the gloom

Bouquets of lavender, crimson and blue
Appeared in the garden and shimmered with dew
Robins were busily building their nest
While mourning doves moaned put your heartache to rest

Thus I survived through the seasons of grief
Coming full circle from blossom to leaf
Summer to Spring all withered and torn
Winter to Autumn; renewed and reborn


Death is Nothing at All
By: Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.


Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
By: Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.