My childhood friend, Louise, lost her son this week. This poem from my book, Low Pain Threshold, is dedicated to her and all families who have lost a child.
Don’t tell me the details!
Won’t listen! Can’t share it!
Don’t ask for a witness to the dying of your son.
Can’t you see? When you’re through it -
when you’ve buried your own flesh,
you can’t bear to see him go all over again.
I don’t remember, recall the feeling,
of waking in the morning
to an avalanche of sadness -
the thunderbolt of knowing.
Find someone else to help you -
who can comfort, feel your terror,
know the ripping from your core -
your child, your treasure.
You violate a friendship! Shatter the amnesia!
I am shrieking out in protest!
but
you are hanging on your crucifix.
Who will take down your broken body?
someone who survived it.
maybe me.
For support, please see Compassionate Friends
{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }
Respectfully, I hope those compassionate friends don’t admoish, “Louise, get up and dance!”
No, they will not, Reed. And, neither would I.
Time has to go by, before that advice is appropriate.
Dear Corinne, As you might guess, I am exhausted from all the
things a person must do when someone has died. As you may recall, Tom was diagnosed two years ago with Congestive heart
Failure, which was then in the later stages of this condition.
He developed arrhythmias and had a pacemaker and defibrillater
implanted. He was no sooner out of the hospital when he went
out, driving, with his girlfriend, on a very cold day, and
began to complain a few days later of fever, then night sweats
chills, etc. But I was not told these facts,until days later
when I desperately tried to get him to agree to go to the
ER….he adamantely refused, and on Monday evening when his
girlfriend returned home she found him unresponsive. I ran
downstairs and I knew instantly he was gone. I believe he had
contracted pneumonia and it carried him away from us.
I want to thank you for having dedicated this poem to him.
It warmed my heart so much! The next day after his death
it snowed, a gentle soft snow that covered all the bare
branches of my Rose Of Sharon tree, and I was reminded of
the last line of a poem Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote after attending a very emotional funeral of a dear friend. She stepped outside and noticed what a particularly beautiful day it was.
She said: “Handsome this day, no matter who has died.”
Love to all, Louise
Thank you, Corinne, for that clairfing response. I say “clarifying” because I don’t believe the element and importance of TIME was underscored in your lovely poem,
Dear Louise –
Our thoughts and prayers are with you.
It is unthinkable to lose a child. Unnatural.
Your friends and relatives don’t know what to do with it. They have no experience. If it was your mother, your husband or even a sibling who had died, they would know what to say.
So, I found, there was little real support. They mean well but all I heard is how grateful I must be to have other children. That was not helpful. When one lamb is lost, it is your complete focus.
Life will go on although it does not seem like it right now.
But you never get over it. It changes you forever.
Dear Corinne, I understand. That which will never be over,
is over. My son Chris and his wife Laurel drove 800 miles
to come here, and made it all easier for me. One thing about
weddings and funerals, it brings the family together. And
believe it or not, we had a ball! Two of my daughters were
also here, and were regaled by Chris as he is a natural
comedian.We laughed until we peed! I’m grateful for all the
support from my family and my friends. God bless all!Love,
Louise.
Dear Louise and family,
My heart and prayers are with you on the passing
of your son.
The following is a song that I’ve been sharing
with many families of our fallen military.
There is a link also, where you can hear the song.
xo xo
Deb Estep
The Other Side
i’m over on the other side
where life and death softly divide.
left my skin and bones behind
now i’m over on the other side.
can you feel me there with you?
my breath is gone but i’m not through.
loved you then and i still do
from over on the other side.
i can fly. really fly.
below the earth … all through the sky.
tell em all i did not die.
i’m just over on the other side.
it’s good here on the other side.
the sweetest songs…the bluest skies.
thank you for the tears you cried
but it’s good here on the other side.
i can fly. really fly. below the earth…all through the sky.
tell em all i did not die.
i’m just over on the other side
the world is smaller than a needle’s eye.
where life and death softly divide.
when you leave your skin and bones behind
i’ll be waiting on the other side.
i can fly. really fly. below the earth … all through the sky.
go tell em all i did not die.
i’m just over on the other side.
Song lyrics by Don Conoscenti
C Desert Muse/SESAC
http://www.donconoscenti.com
(Used with permission)
“I hope it brings great comfort to any and all.
Peace on you. DonCon” 4-2008
The Other Side –
(To hear the song)
http://tinyurl.com/3o8gol
Dear Louise -
Your story about your family and the tremendous support you all gave each other reminded me of my Grandmother’s funeral.
She read tea leaves for many people. No charge. And she was quite a popular person because many of her predictions were so accurate. I don’t think there was a word for psychics in those days – but she definitely was one.
When she died, hundreds of people came to her funeral. I swear all of Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn.
Afterwards, there was a huge party. Singing around a piano and dancing – and of course a bit of imbibing!
What I heard everywhere was, “It’s too bad Grandma isn’t here. She would have had such a good time!”
The Irish know how to do it!
Dear Deb -
That was so kind of you to send the beautiful song for Louise – and for all of us.
I enjoyed it too. I firmly believe that our loved ones never leave and will help us if we ask.
So that song was especially meaningful to me.
Dear Matt -
It certainly puts things in perspective when there is a tragedy in the family.
Little things don’t seem important and we are able to look at our lives clearly.
I think the word is “gratitude” for what we have and who we love.
Thanks for stopping by.
Dear Deb Esteb, The poem on its own is beautiful. Not gloomy.
Heartwarming in a way. I loved it and read it to my daughter.
I will listen to the audio soon. Thanks so much for posting it. It was comforting in a huge way!
Dear Corinne, Indeed that is how the Irish do it. Don’t
mourn the death…celebrate the life.And I too had a great
Aunt who lived with us, and she always read the tealeaves
for us. For me, it was always a tall, dark handsome man
whom I would meet soon!!! Love, Louise
When I re-read your poem, my heart ached all over again thinking about the loss of your precious son.
The poem is beautiful and I’m sure very comforting to anyone who has lost a child. your loving sister
My son was 57 years old. The first born of 5 children. He had
severe cardiac problems for several years. The worst of it
is not having been able to say “goodbye” to him. We found him
about 6 hours after he died, sitting on the floor against his
bed.But he is gone, however it happened, freed from earthly
cares. Louise
Corinne . This whole process has been so touching. So many nice people chiming in.
Louise, my prayers are with you. My sister went through the lost of her son to suicide several years ago. She still hasn’t recovered. If it hasn’t happened to you, you can only imagine what it would be like. That is why it is so hard to know what to say. Even imagining the death of a child is too hard.
When my son, who is now 31 years old, was a baby, I dreamed of him as a young man in pioneer days time. In the dream, he was running toward me with American Indians chasing him. In front of me, he was killed. I woke myself up sobbing. I was so upset by the dream that I didn’t tell anyone about it until a month later when I finally told my husband.
I know my dream is different than actually losing my son, but it is the closest that I can come to feeling the depth of your grief and despair. You and your family are in my prayers. You are blessed to have a friend like Corinne.