Memórias
Last picture taken of Timmy...with my dad. November 5, 2007
Timmy died November 8, 2007.
Beneath this simple stone
that marks his resting place,
Our beloved son sleeps
in the Lords long embrace.
Memories are all thats left
for his Dad and I to hold,
Because our son, Timothy,
went to Heaven when he
was just eighteen years old.
We feel empty and lonely,
since he left our lives so soon,
we find great comfort in knowing
that he is with his Grandma June.
Timmy, we can feel you with us and
sometimes in the distance
we can see your smiling face,
until we meet again,
we weep at your resting place.
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
On Death
Kahlil Gibran
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
"He hath awakened from the dream of life"
Shelley
| Mothers of the Mourning After |
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Mothers of the Mourning After
When we met we could barely speak, paralyzed and frozen we sat.
We leaned on one another and were able to stand,
And slowly we learned to walk.
As time passed a bond formed from the love of our children lost,
A friendship forged in pain grew into love and laughter.
Together we have found new ways to live and love and remember the life.
Longing for a time that exists in heart's memory, together we talk of our children
and smile with silent tears.
Dear friend, thank for walking the valley with me.
Thank you for sharing the love,
As we climb together we can see ahead more clearly.
We can see them in the distance smiling, waiting and proud.
If we could only touch them....until then we hold...one another.
Rita Volpe
Son, how can I help you see?
May I give you my shoulders to stand on?
Now, you can see further than me!!
Now, you can see for the both of us.
Son, won't you tell me what you see?
Author Unknown
Just For Today
Just for today, I will try to live through the next 24 hours...not expecting to get over my child's death, but learning to live with it...one day at a time
Just for today, I'll remember my child's life, not his death, and bask in the comfort of the treasured days and moments we shared.
Just for today, I will forgive all the family and friends who didn't help or comfort me the way I needed them to. They truly did not know how.
Just for today, I will reach out to comfort a relative or friend of my child. For they are hurting too, and perhaps we can help each other.
Just for today, I will free myself from my self-inflicted burden of guilt. For deep in my heart, I know if there was anything in this world I could have done to save my child from death, I would have done it.
Just for today, I will honor my child's memory by doing something with another child, be it my own, or someone else's, because I know that would make my child proud.
Just for today, I will offer my hand in friendship to other bereaved parents, for I DO know how they feel.
Just for today, I will smile...no matter how much I hurt on the inside...for maybe if I smile a little, my heart will soften and I will begin to heal.
Just for today, I will allow myself to be happy and enjoy myself, for I know I am not deserting my child by moving on.
Just for today, I will accept that I did NOT die when my child did. My life did go on and I am the ONLY one who can make that life worthwhile again.
~by V.Tushingham, taken from the Bereaved Parents of the USA Tampa Bay Newsletter, Sept 2001.
Raising A Boy
For a mother the project of raising a boy is the most fulfilling project she can hope for.
She can watch him, as a child, play the games she was not allowed to play; she can invest in him her ideas, aspirations, ambitions and values--or whatever she has left of them; she can watch her son, who came from her flesh and whose life was sustained by her work and devotion, embody her in the world.
So while the project of raising a boy is fraught with ambivalence and leads inevitably to bitterness, it is the only project that allows a woman to be -- to be through her son, to live through her son.
Dworkin,Andrea
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