
My son! My son! Where are you now?
I come home and wonder how
How it came that you were hurt
I stand and hold your bloody shirt
Please be safe, please be ok
Please dear son, just live this day
Why you? I scream and this I say
“My God why you? this isn’t ok!”
The pain it rips as with the fears
With empty arms and flooding tears
Oh brave I’ll be for you my son
I’ll live until my life is done
I’ll pretend to watch you growing old
I’ll pretend to see you and to hold
Squeeze you in my arms again
For empty am I without this pen
Your memory is blessed in all my prayers
Cherished too all through the years
Your smile lives on in my world each day
“I love you mom”, is what it did say
I deny all fears and sleepless nights
The endless tears and shadowed lights
Nothing but joy, was in your soul
My little boy has completed life’s toll
***
Struck once, that was enough
The shock it had was very tough
His life escaped through every pore
And now he’s left this world and more
Though not so bad, he still smiles happily
Dancing with God and all that is heavenly
Laughing in his bubbly way
Like he did on his dying day
Now and then he stops to think
At these times, my heart does sink
For when he does and thinks of me
I’m struck again in reality
Until that day I meet with him
My days will be both grey and grim
The hope I wear inside of me
Upon my death, my son I’ll see
As the end draws to a close and it’s time to say goodbye to another year, many of us reminisce and reflect about the past. We all know someone who has passed from this world and we can feel the pain just as hard today as we did then. The heart was touched by them and the heart reminds us of this too. The brain can’t answer why they had to go when they did, but the heart steps in and provides the love to get you through.
Wether tragedy, sickness, or old age….There really is nothing that can prepare you for the final moment. For those of us who remain…there is sorrow, pain and unanswered questions….
For me this year, I’ve been thinking about one little boy in particular.
Brendan Toplack was a toddler next door to me and one of my first babysitting jobs as a 13 year old.
One day the phone rang… Little Brendan was playing outside and ran into the street after his ball…… for the last time…
It hit me like a tone of bricks….
Many times I would write things.. but this one was from the perspective of his mother. The pain I felt was hers and the comfort I wanted to give. Bear in mind I was about 13 I think. It was in my little journal I kept hidden. I revive this poem and now share with you….
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