The day before that I was crying about my own life because things have been going so slowly and nothing's been changing..but now I truly know...life can be so much worse. It sounds cliche, but it's true. If that were my baby, I wouldn't ever want to move again. But it wasn't, and I have possibilities and more ahead of me, but that little boy...he never got the chance. His possibility was cut short. It puts things in perspective at least...
I knew I couldn't do anything else..so I wrote this poem for the service.
Blue eyed angel: In memory.
His eyes are the sky, so vastly blue.
He'll never know heartbreak, or war or pain.
He'll always know sunshine and never the rain.
Then when you feel you can't keep yourself whole without
him in your arms, he'll send angel kisses to keep his mother from harm.
When you feel you can't breathe anymore, he'll send cherub kisses to heal
what is sore.
Little angel, little winged thing.
Little angel, little lovely boy.
Though your heart fills with sadness, let your memories ring joy.
Nothing can compare to a mother's heart, her child lives inside, so you will
never truly part.
His eyes are the sky, so deeply blue.
He will always be loved, and so will you.
You watched over him and now he'll watch over you.
There's not always a reason. There doesn't need to be--sometimes it's best just to let it teach you what it wants to teach you. Let it affect you however it needs and if you want to honor the dead, I think the best thing anyone can do is to feel the hurt of death and think of what it means. You're writing about it, which means you're doing it the right way (in my book, for whatever that's worth).
ReplyDeleteI don't know the family, but my heart goes out to them. It will be difficult, but everyone will make it through. Changed, but alive.