For those who have lost someone

[Lyssa]

As some of you all know, I lost my mother almost 2 years ago. I was reading old emails from a few close friends I've connected with on LS regarding my loss and I came across this poem that was sent by one of them.

 

I would like to share it with those who have lost their parent(s), grandparent(s), sibling(s) or even friend(s) :

 

 

She Is Just Away

 

You cannot say, you must not say

That she is dead. She is just away!

With a cheery smile

and a wave of the hand

She has wandered into

an unknown land

And left us dreaming how very fair

it needs must be, since she lingers there;

So think of her faring on, as dear

In the love of There

as in the love of Here,

Think of her still as the same, and say

She is not dead she is just away.

or

 

He Is Just Away

 

You cannot say, you must not say

That he is dead. He is just away!

With a cheery smile

and a wave of the hand

He has wandered into

an unknown land

And left us dreaming how very fair

it needs must be, since he lingers there;

So think of him faring on, as dear

In the love of There

as in the love of Here,

Think of him still as the same, and say

He is not dead he is just away.

 

Also, for those who would like to share stories on their loss or just rant about how much you miss them - please feel free to do so. I know it helps me a lot by talking about my late mother.

 

For those who have not experienced it, you can join in by telling us lovely things about your parents, grandparents or siblings. Anything.

[HsMomma]

First off, Lyssa, let me say I'm so sorry for your loss. I know it's something we never really recover from (having lost my Dad the year before my daughter was born). I'm going to share a poem my mother gave to me & asked me to read (she's still alive) when we talked about her eventual death. I hope it brings you some comfort. {{hugs}}

 

Death is Nothing At All

I have only slipped away into the next room.

I am I, and you are you,

whatever we were to each other,

that we are still.

 

Call me by the old familiar name.

Speak of 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 that 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 an effort,

Without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

 

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was.

There is absolute and

unbroken continuity.

 

What is this death but a

negligible accident?

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 round the corner.

 

All is well.

~ Henry Scott Holland

[quankanne]

hugs to you both ... sometimes it seems like it gets easier to adjust to their "non-presence," then WHAM! you start missing them all over again.

 

for me, it was the billy joel song "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)" that helped me to see that even though my mom – who I was incredibly close to – is on another plane of existence, she still lives on. Inside me and every one who was touched by her love ...

 

part of the lyric:

someday we'll both be gone,

but lullabyes go on and one ...

they never die, that's how

you

and I

will be

[HsMomma]

I dread the day when I too will be feeling this deep sense of sorrow for a loved one.

 

BH, that's why I shared the poem my mom gave me - though it is incredibly sad when you lose someone you love so much, that poem actually gave me a great deal of solace at a very low point in my life. I find it comforting to realize that even though the physical part of the person is gone, they themselves, just as Quankanne said, live on in our hearts/souls/minds.

[quankanne]

I think there comes a point when you realize that death can never really keep you from the one you loved, simply because that love is meant to stay alive. There are so many things I see in my nieces and nephews that remind me of my mom that it makes my heart glad ...

[HsMomma]

{{HSMomma}} you too! I didn't realize you lost your mum too.

 

You too Quankanne? {{Quankanne}} That is very comforting what you said about reaching a point where you know love stays alive.

I really try to see a light in the end of the tunnel and it seems so impossible when dealing with this level of grief. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so close to my folks since I fear it will be that much harder when the times comes.. I know it's silly to think that but..

 

 

:(:(

 

Oh no, BH - my mom is still alive & kicking! She'll be 72 in October (looks AND ACTS about my age, though ). She gave that poem to me when my Dad died.

 

Don't EVER wish you weren't so close to your folks...the memories you make with them are what keeps the love alive forever. Yes, it's painful when they're gone, but I wouldn't trade one single memory of my times with my Dad for even a slight lessening of the pain.

 

This is why I always tell my family & friends I love them...we WANT that love to go on & on. Be close, revel in the closeness, store up those memories because someday, when they're gone & you're thinking about them/missing them, those same memories will make you smile.

[Soul-Searcher]

I miss my grandfather very much. He was number one in my life. He died 3 weeks before my 16th birthday. His death didn't hit me until I came home from school and I saw his empty seat with his slippers in front of them and his walking stick leaning against the radiator. I knew then that he wasn't coming back.

 

I have dreamt of him though and every time, he is happy. I remember one dream where I actually ran up and cuddled him. I would do anything to see him again.

[HsMomma]

I miss my grandfather very much. He was number one in my life. He died 3 weeks before my 16th birthday. His death didn't hit me until I came home from school and I saw his empty seat with his slippers in front of them and his walking stick leaning against the radiator. I knew then that he wasn't coming back.

 

I have dreamt of him though and every time, he is happy. I remember one dream where I actually ran up and cuddled him. I would do anything to see him again.

 

Hugs to you Soul-Searcher. It is so hard, I know...I still talk to my Dad & he's been gone almost 16 years now. Yup, I know it may sound crazy to some, but I really do talk to him. I know he's here with me, just as your grandfather is there with you. Dreaming of them is, to me, a wonderful thing. I love seeing my Dad when I'm sleeping - it gives me peace, feeling like he's watching over me.

[whimsical_memory]

I too have lost my mother (she passed away after hitting her head on the hospital floor), but I was not close to her, due to some very personal reasons. As I get older, I find myself wondering what it would have been like had we been close but I try to keep myself from thinking about it too much simply because there is nothing I can do about the situation now.

 

Last year, our family suffered a tremendous loss when my best friend, her fiancee and her nine-year-old son were hit by a car. The son and my friend's fiancee were both killed. My daughter and her son were extremely close, called themselves brother and sister. We went on family vacations together and if you saw one child, you saw the other. We are still struggling to understand how this could happen and why justice is taking so long to be served.

[quankanne]

ahhhh ... the only one who knows about this is my husband: I've kept an old answering machine tape with Mama's voice on it for when it gets really, really bad. Have come close to playing it, but just knowing it's there helps tremendously.

 

it seems so impossible when dealing with this level of grief.

they say that everyone goes through their period of grieving at his/her own rate ... so it's something you've got to muddle through. But I promise you, there is an end to the heavy-duty part! Focus on those tangible things you have of that person – their kind words, their acts, etc – and know that you will carry those with you for the rest of your life.

 

I wish I knew where I saw it, but there's a saying that goes something like "you don't lose the one you love until the very last person who remembers and loves him/her is gone." And I think it's true – there are so many people who tell me their lives have been touched by my parents (both are gone), so when they share their stories, Mom and Dad come alive in a beautiful way. With my dad, mostly the grumpy old man routine, which makes me laugh to no end

 

as crazy as it sounds, your grief will serve you and carry you through this episode to a point where you can adjust to the change, and see that while it may hurt because you miss them, they're only a though or smile away. :love:

[GorillaTheater]

I miss my grandfather very much. He was number one in my life. He died 3 weeks before my 16th birthday. His death didn't hit me until I came home from school and I saw his empty seat with his slippers in front of them and his walking stick leaning against the radiator. I knew then that he wasn't coming back.

 

I have dreamt of him though and every time, he is happy. I remember one dream where I actually ran up and cuddled him. I would do anything to see him again.

 

This just about killed me. No boo-hooing at work though; it'll attract concerned looks. And security.

 

My parents were uncommonly distant, but grandpa was the one person who was always happy to see me and to spend time with me. And was actually proud of me. For a screwed up kid, that meant an awful lot. I lost him when I was 21.

[TaraMaiden]

Forgive me if I wander off into a different corner of the room, but this is where what I follow is so comforting. Because dying is the most important aspect of living.

Living well is hard enough. Dying well, is a real challenge.

I don't mean dying well in the sense of health, or process.

I mean 'dying well' in the sense that a legacy of love, affection and good memories are left, by those who have 'slipped away into the next room'.

When a person dies well, they never die at all, you know.....

 

According to what I practice, dying is simply an ongoing process. this phase comes to a close - but a new one begins..... as Voltaire once famously said,

"It should be no more surprising to be born twice, than it was to be born once".

This said - who knows?

there are no certainties, no guarantees, no answers.

But we who remain have a duty to perpetuate and to continue to cherish the ones who have died.....

The most honourable thing we can do for the ones we love, who died well for us, is to live well, for them.

[whichwayisup]

Thank-you for posting this.

 

My father has been 'away' for 16 years now.

[HsMomma]

I don't think the keeping of their voices is weird at all. What I didn't tell y'all was that I had my mom read the poem into a recorder for me, so that when she is gone, I can hear her actually saying those words to me.

 

It makes me cry to think about losing her, I'll admit, because we are extraordinarily close (as I am with my daughter).

 

Though I do believe the love carries on, the thought of losing her, my biggest champion, does make me cry. That's why it's even more important to me to build & cherish the memories.

 

Taramaiden, I LOVED this part of your post: "The most honourable thing we can do for the ones we love, who died well for us, is to live well, for them."

[Lyssa]

First off, Lyssa, let me say I'm so sorry for your loss. I know it's something we never really recover from (having lost my Dad the year before my daughter was born). I'm going to share a poem my mother gave to me & asked me to read (she's still alive) when we talked about her eventual death. I hope it brings you some comfort. {{hugs}}

 

HsM, thank you for sharing that poem with us. It's comforting, thank you very much. I'm sorry for your loss too.

 

hugs to you both ... sometimes it seems like it gets easier to adjust to their "non-presence," then WHAM! you start missing them all over again.

 

Oh yeah! It hits you like a brick to your face. I was actually doing good for the last few months but it hit me last night cause I was thinking about my achievements thus far and I wish she was here with me.

 

I know that song! We used to listen to it together .

 

Oh this thread is bringing tears to my eyes. {{Lyssa}}.

 

I dread the day when I too will be feeling this deep sense of sorrow for a loved one.

 

Thanks, BH. I know everyone will go through it but TBH, I wish no one ever will have to.. it's too painful esp if you were really super close to your parents.

 

I think there comes a point when you realize that death can never really keep you from the one you loved, simply because that love is meant to stay alive. There are so many things I see in my nieces and nephews that remind me of my mom that it makes my heart glad ...

 

I agree. I see a lot of my late mother in my nieces and also, my brothers. They may not realise it but it's there. Recently, my dad made a copy of my ID card and he said my pic looked so much like my mother when she was in her early 20s - that made me very happy.

 

I have dreamt of him though and every time, he is happy. I remember one dream where I actually ran up and cuddled him. I would do anything to see him again.

 

It's a good thing that you dream of him and that he's always happy in them. I dreamt last few weeks that my mother helped me decorate the new condo .

 

ahhhh ... the only one who knows about this is my husband: I've kept an old answering machine tape with Mama's voice on it for when it gets really, really bad. Have come close to playing it, but just knowing it's there helps tremendously.

 

I wish I had a recording of my mother's voice! You're lucky. That is so sweet. I'm glad that sometimes when I am sad or feel alone, I hear her voice inside me, telling me everything will be alright.

 

it seems so impossible when dealing with this level of grief.

they say that everyone goes through their period of grieving at his/her own rate ... so it's something you've got to muddle through. But I promise you, there is an end to the heavy-duty part! Focus on those tangible things you have of that person – their kind words, their acts, etc – and know that you will carry those with you for the rest of your life.

 

I wish I knew where I saw it, but there's a saying that goes something like "you don't lose the one you love until the very last person who remembers and loves him/her is gone." And I think it's true – there are so many people who tell me their lives have been touched by my parents (both are gone), so when they share their stories, Mom and Dad come alive in a beautiful way. With my dad, mostly the grumpy old man routine, which makes me laugh to no end

 

as crazy as it sounds, your grief will serve you and carry you through this episode to a point where you can adjust to the change, and see that while it may hurt because you miss them, they're only a though or smile away. :love:

 

Thank you so much for the wonderful words, Quankanne. It brought tears to my eyes (not in a bad way!).

[Ms. Red]

I've lost too many to list. I always tell my friends and family I love them as my parting words in person or any forms of communications. I never know when I'll lose another. I want them to know I love them.

 

My Mom's good friend died about 18 months ago. It was 9 days after her 103rd birthday! A couple days after getting the news from my Mom I was looking up lyrics to a song I loved but had a hard time understanding the words. I sent it to my Mom for comfort because as I read the words it made me think of her dear friend. I hope this helps someone.

 

Band: Live

Song: Lightning Crashes

 

Lightning crashes, a new mother cries

Her placenta falls to the floor

The angel opens her eyes

The confusion sets in

Before the doctor can even close the door

 

Lightning crashes, an old mother dies

Her intentions fall to the floor

The angel closes her eyes

The confusion that was hers

Belongs now, to the baby down the hall

 

Oh now feel it comin back again

Like a rollin thunder chasing the wind

Forces pullin from the center of the earth again

I can feel it.

 

Lightning crashes, a new mother cries

This moment shes been waiting for

The angel opens her eyes

Pale blue colored iris, presents the circle

And puts the glory out to hide, hide

[quankanne]

BH, it may seem odd to someone else, but to YOU it's perfect sense to do those things like record their voices (liked the poem idea, HM, I wish I'd have thought to catch my mom singing on tape, that's what I remember most about her, always singing). Think of it as your dowry, your legacy of your parents, that you can pass down to their grandkids. After my folks died, I went through personal items to share with my nieces and nephews so that they'd have memories of Gramma and Grampa ... not ready to give up the tape just yet though!

 

Recently, my dad made a copy of my ID card and he said my pic looked so much like my mother when she was in her early 20s - that made me very happy.

 

ah, you just made me cry a little – isn't it funny (sweet) how those little things people tell you make you feel so good about the other person ... and yourself? One of my mom's friends told me that when she sees me, she thinks of my mother because of how close we were, and that makes my heart swell with love, because she's not forgotten. And seeing my niece's little girl is somewhat visible proof that my mom is still around, she's got her great-gramma's big brown eyes and face shape, and definitely my mom's sense of humor. And it's all good, you know?

[Lyssa]

I've lost too many to list. I always tell my friends and family I love them as my parting words in person or any forms of communications. I never know when I'll lose another. I want them to know I love them.

 

I'm sorry for your losses. Like you, I never want to lose another. I'm paranoid about that! I can't even go to hospitals without crying cause hospitals remind me so much of my loss.

 

Thank you, Ms. Red for sharing that with us. I love that song! I never really given much thought to the lyrics until now. Thanks.

 

BH, it may seem odd to someone else, but to YOU it's perfect sense to do those things like record their voices (liked the poem idea, HM, I wish I'd have thought to catch my mom singing on tape, that's what I remember most about her, always singing). Think of it as your dowry, your legacy of your parents, that you can pass down to their grandkids. After my folks died, I went through personal items to share with my nieces and nephews so that they'd have memories of Gramma and Grampa ... not ready to give up the tape just yet though!

 

Recently, my dad made a copy of my ID card and he said my pic looked so much like my mother when she was in her early 20s - that made me very happy.

 

ah, you just made me cry a little – isn't it funny (sweet) how those little things people tell you make you feel so good about the other person ... and yourself? One of my mom's friends told me that when she sees me, she thinks of my mother because of how close we were, and that makes my heart swell with love, because she's not forgotten. And seeing my niece's little girl is somewhat visible proof that my mom is still around, she's got her great-gramma's big brown eyes and face shape, and definitely my mom's sense of humor. And it's all good, you know?

 

Some might think it's odd but I think it's really sweet! I wish I had done some recordings - ggrrr. I might start doing that with my father and the rest of my loved ones .

 

Yes, it is good to know that there is a bit of mum in me and that I have her looks too. It is all good, Quank - you got that right!

[Thaddeus]

I've shared the story about the death of my first wife before so I'm not going to repeat the whole story here. But I certainly resonated with the poem.

 

Once in a while - not often, but maybe a few times per year - I still get this palpable sense that she's there. Sometimes I hear her laugh, or see her shape, or get a waft of her delicate scent. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night and feel puzzled because she's not lying beside me. Sometimes I even come close to pouring her a cup of coffee in the morning and wait to hear her pad her way down the stairs to the kitchen. And sometimes I cry. She's been gone for well over a decade, and sometimes it's as if I found her body yesterday.

[Ms. Red]

I'm sorry for your losses. Like you, I never want to lose another. I'm paranoid about that! I can't even go to hospitals without crying cause hospitals remind me so much of my loss.

 

Thank you, Ms. Red for sharing that with us. I love that song! I never really given much thought to the lyrics until now. Thanks.

 

I used to have a horrible fear of hospitals & start shaking and sweating just walking in. I faced my fear head-on & I now work in a hospital & have been in the medical field for almost 20 years now. I no longer associate the hospital with fear of losing someone. I now have moments with a patient where I pull my inner strength & all I can not to break down & cry in front of them as I think of someone I've lost. Thankfully, it only happens to me rarely.

 

 

 

Some might think it's odd but I think it's really sweet! I wish I had done some recordings - ggrrr. I might start doing that with my father and the rest of my loved ones

.

 

 

 

My Grandma in another state was the one I only saw every other year for vacation growing up. She would always shop, wrap & ship a Christmas gift early in December. One year she told me she was sorry but it was just too much for her to do that year. I told her I didn't care if she gave me anything or not. I then said, "however, if you could find the time, just drop a tape in a recorder & talk to me. Tell me about your life. What your childhood was like. You as a young bride...etc."

 

She made me a tape over an hour long. It was the best gift she had ever sent me through the years. She passed 10 years ago at the age of 87. I will treasure that tape forever.

 

p.s. I also still have an old answering machine tape with her voice on it too.

[Ms. Red]

I've shared the story about the death of my first wife before so I'm not going to repeat the whole story here. But I certainly resonated with the poem.

 

Once in a while - not often, but maybe a few times per year - I still get this palpable sense that she's there. Sometimes I hear her laugh, or see her shape, or get a waft of her delicate scent. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night and feel puzzled because she's not lying beside me. Sometimes I even come close to pouring her a cup of coffee in the morning and wait to hear her pad her way down the stairs to the kitchen. And sometimes I cry. She's been gone for well over a decade, and sometimes it's as if I found her body yesterday.

 

THIS made me cry.

 

I still cry sometimes over the loss of my best friend in 1987. And she was just my best friend. I can't imagine your pain. [[[HUGS]]] to you.

[HsMomma]

I've shared the story about the death of my first wife before so I'm not going to repeat the whole story here. But I certainly resonated with the poem.

 

Once in a while - not often, but maybe a few times per year - I still get this palpable sense that she's there. Sometimes I hear her laugh, or see her shape, or get a waft of her delicate scent. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night and feel puzzled because she's not lying beside me. Sometimes I even come close to pouring her a cup of coffee in the morning and wait to hear her pad her way down the stairs to the kitchen. And sometimes I cry. She's been gone for well over a decade, and sometimes it's as if I found her body yesterday.

 

Wow, Thadd - I have to admit, I don't know the history behind your past, but I am so sorry. Sending you BIG cyber hugs.

 

You know, I know that most people who read that second paragraph will cry & there are definitely parts of it that are so sad, but I think overall, it's a wonderful phenomenon when we can still sometimes hear their laughter, see their shapes, or smell them around us. I know I find great comfort in those things when (and it's sadly very infrequent) they've happened to me in reference to my Dad.

 

You've been through an incredibly painful time, my friend - if you ever need a shoulder, you know where to find me (at least here on LS!).

 

{{{{{{{{{{{Thadd}}}}}}}}}}

[bentnotbroken]

My dad has been gone 7 years. I have his winter coat with the smell of his cigars still in the pockets(I hate the smell of cigars:D)but my dad put those cigars there, he put the change in a jar every night, I have the jar with the last change he put in there. I miss him at the oddest times.

 

My fruit trees had a fungus and I wanted to call him to ask him what to do. I actually picked up the phone...I forgot for a minute. But he has always been right beside me and I know it.

[Trialbyfire]

I've shared the story about the death of my first wife before so I'm not going to repeat the whole story here. But I certainly resonated with the poem.

 

Once in a while - not often, but maybe a few times per year - I still get this palpable sense that she's there. Sometimes I hear her laugh, or see her shape, or get a waft of her delicate scent. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night and feel puzzled because she's not lying beside me. Sometimes I even come close to pouring her a cup of coffee in the morning and wait to hear her pad her way down the stairs to the kitchen. And sometimes I cry. She's been gone for well over a decade, and sometimes it's as if I found her body yesterday.

Oh Thad, I'm so sorry for your loss.

 

And for the loss of all your loved ones in this thread. ((hugs))

 

I've also lost my favourite grandmother. I still have some of her things of which one is a soft, coin wallet. Sometimes, I take it out and smell it, because her perfume still softly lingers. She and I were like heart twins. I miss her so much.

[BenThereDunThat]

I've shared the story about the death of my first wife before so I'm not going to repeat the whole story here. But I certainly resonated with the poem.

 

Once in a while - not often, but maybe a few times per year - I still get this palpable sense that she's there. Sometimes I hear her laugh, or see her shape, or get a waft of her delicate scent. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night and feel puzzled because she's not lying beside me. Sometimes I even come close to pouring her a cup of coffee in the morning and wait to hear her pad her way down the stairs to the kitchen. And sometimes I cry. She's been gone for well over a decade, and sometimes it's as if I found her body yesterday.

 

Oh, Thad. I am so sorry. I knew that your wife died, but I have purposely resisted reading your story. Just can't go there.

 

I am sure my dad hurts too. I can't talk to him about it though, because he just immediately shut down and got himself a girlfriend and out of respect and love, we all tried our hardest to support him and welcome her.

 

I know how much I miss my mom every day. But she was so much more to my dad, obviously. I can't imagine what he went/goes through.

 

I, too, am sorry for everyone's loss here.