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| Signs My angel sends a butterfly, To land upon my arm. He sends me signs to let me know, He's safe & loved & warm. My angel sends me rainbows On a cloudy day. I understand that he is near, And things will be okay. Today be sent me snowflakes, From a sunny sky above. I could feel his presence, And the power of his love. My angel sends me little signs In the moon and skies The signs are subtle, yet I know, They're meant just for my eyes. I look for all these little signs, To comfort me each day. The signs can even make me laugh, My angel loves to play! These signs are The Creator's things, And you might think it's odd, To believe my angel sends these signs, He does...He's one with God. Wrote by: Jamie Van Der Meer This poem was written in Feb. 2000 for Pierce, who was born still at 36 weeks on Nov. 4, 1998 and for Angel, who miscarried at 15 weeks on July 15, 1997. Their parents: Jamie and Paul also have a 4 year old son, P.J. No Regrets The humidity is lower, the sky blue again, the weather like something off a postcard. I sit on the deck, writing, remembering. Suddenly a leaf drops on my open book and I realize autumn, in turn will soon arrive, the time my daughter would have been changing, day to day. Instead, she will never change. She remains as perfect as the weather. She will never disappoint me, never anger or hurt me. I will never worry for her safety; she will never rebel. I will never wish for my freedom; she will never regret being born. There are too many other "nevers" too painful to consider. So, I try to enjoy these perfect fall days, after a spring that reneged on it's promise of new life, and a summer that festered like a battlefield wound. I can have no regrets. I can press leaves in the pages of old books, the way I did the petals from her service. In memory of Jessalyn Van Order By her mother: Anne Barney, Author of Stolen Joy.. Baltimore, Maryland |
| The Gift Of Someone Who Listens Those of us who have traveled awhile Along this path called grief Need to stop and remember that mile, The first mile of no relief. It wasn't the person with answers, Who told us the ways to deal. It wasn't the one who talked and talked That helped us strat to heal. Think of friends who quietly sat And held our hands in theirs, The ones who let us talk and talk And hugged away our tears. We need to always remember That, more than the words we speak, It's the gift of someone who listens That most of us desperately seek. Wrote by: Nancy Myerholts...Toledo, Ohio Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glint on the snow. I am the starlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle Autumn rain. When you wake in the morning hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and weep for I am not there, I do not sleep. Author Unknown What They Say Get over it they say... Quit feeling sorry for yourself they say... All you care about is yourself they say... We've lost too they say... But do they know what they are saying? Maybe I am feeling sorry for myself but I say... Do you wake up with no little feet running around? No, I say. Do you know the pain of not only loosing one baby, but two? No, I say. Do you know how much that hurt to hear you say what you said? No, I say. If people only knew how much of what they say hurts! We will always think of you Jordan and Ariel, no matter what they say... In memory of our twin boys, by their parents: Joyce & Joel Althoff St. Michael, Minnesota |
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| Pain Sometimes it comes and sucks the breath right out of me. It hurts so bad I can't breathe. Moments go by... Will I die, I wonder? I'm not scared of dying anymore. It can't be worse than this. Author Unknown |
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