Special thoughts for Donna

She has endured unthinkable loss in her life. Sometimes the words don't come...words to comfort, words of caring, words that might ease her sorrow for perhaps just a minute. I've decided that often times there are no words to express those feelings because there is no way for most of us to know what she's going through. But I've also decided that it's ok not to have those words. There is nothing that we can say to make her "feel" better. And I've also learned that it's ok to tell her that I don't know what to say. She knows that I care and that I love her dearly. I just hope that she knows that if I could take away her pain, I would. So this page was dedicated to her several years ago when her Dad passed away. I've recently added a few things that I hope will ensure her that she's in my thoughts and prayers daily. And when we can't see each other for long periods of time, my hope is that in knowing how much I care about her, that this page is will bring her some comfort, even if only for a moment. This page is also dedicated to the memories of David, Clifford, Kathleen and Michael.

My Wish List

Author Unknown

~ I wish you would not be afraid to speak my loved one’s name. They lived and were important and I need to hear their name.

~ If I cry and get emotional if we talk about my loved one, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you hurt me: the fact that they died causes my tears. You have allowed me to cry and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.

~ I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good cry my grief is all over, or that if I have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.

~ Being bereaved is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t stay away from me.

~ I wish you knew all the crazy grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, fear, hopelessness and questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following a death.

~ I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in 6 months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for me. As with alcoholics, I will never be cured or a formerly bereaved, but forevermore be recovering from my bereavement.

~ I wish you understood the physical reaction to grief. I may gain weight, lose weight, sleep all of the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses and be accident prone: all of which are related to my grief.

~ My loved one’s birthday, the anniversary of their death and holidays can be terrible times for us. I wish you could tell me that you are thinking of us on these days. And if I get quiet and withdrawn, just know that I am thinking of my loved one and don’t try and coerce me into be cheerful.

~ I wish you wouldn’t offer to take me out for a drink, or to a party. This is just a temporary crutch and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.

~ I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my beloved died and I will never be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to get back to my old self you will stay frustrated. I am anew creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values and beliefs. Please try and get to know this different me – I’m the one who’ll be here from now on.

I stand upon the seashore. A ship spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and heads out across the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.

And I stand and watch her at length until she hangs like a speck of white cloud on the horizon, just where the sea and sky meet to mingle with each other.

At my side someone says: "There! She's gone." Gone where? Gone from my sight--that is all. She is just as large in mast and spar and hull as when she sailed close by, and just as able to bare her load of living freight o the place of destination. Her diminished size is my vision alone.

At the moment when someone at my side says: "There! She's gone," other eyes watch her coming, and other voices take up the glad shout: "Here she comes"

by Henry Van Dyke