Random poem
Dec. 14th, 2005 11:27 amGot this from my aunt the other day, written on the back of a photograph of my mother. It's trite and rhymey-poemy, but somehow it touched me - despite the fact that I don't even believe in God or an afterlife.

We little knew that morning,
that God would call your name.
In life we loved you dearly,
In death we do the same.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
you did not go alone;
for part of us went with you,
the day God called you home.
You left us peaceful memories,
your love is still our guide;
And though we cannot see you,
you are always at our side.
Our family chain is broken,
and nothing seems the same;
but as God calls us one by one,
The Chain will link again.
~author unknown~
This will be our second Christmas without her. I've been told by many people that you never really stop missing those close to you who have died, and it seems true in this case at least. I still think about her a lot, and wish she were here to talk to about all sorts of things.
ninja_kat's baby, home schooling, the Law Review, Justin's ballet classes, the coming election...
I don't talk about her much, though. If someone else brings her up it's comforting. If I do... sometimes it's comforting, sometimes just painful.
Well. On that cheery note, I'm off to make lunch.

We little knew that morning,
that God would call your name.
In life we loved you dearly,
In death we do the same.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
you did not go alone;
for part of us went with you,
the day God called you home.
You left us peaceful memories,
your love is still our guide;
And though we cannot see you,
you are always at our side.
Our family chain is broken,
and nothing seems the same;
but as God calls us one by one,
The Chain will link again.
~author unknown~
This will be our second Christmas without her. I've been told by many people that you never really stop missing those close to you who have died, and it seems true in this case at least. I still think about her a lot, and wish she were here to talk to about all sorts of things.
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I don't talk about her much, though. If someone else brings her up it's comforting. If I do... sometimes it's comforting, sometimes just painful.
Well. On that cheery note, I'm off to make lunch.