PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

One friend stood at another friend’s funeral and began this eulogy:

“Our friend had a simple philosophy about life.” He said. “Which he laid out for all of us to see.”

“How often did he tell us he lived his life in moments…from the moment he saw the sun’s first light…and how he would think about those moments when he want to bed at night.”

“And if he recalled more beautiful moments than bad…he would smile and he’d say…just before he closed his eyes…What a wonderful way to spend the day.”

“And if…when Saturday ended…he recalled more beautiful days than bad…this line he would speak…just before he closed his eyes…what a wonderful way to spend a week.”

“And as wonderful weeks turned into wonderful months at the end of December…from his lips you might hear…before he closed his eyes at night…what a wonderful way to spend a year.”

“If he was here to give his own eulogy…the fact he’s not still cuts me like a knife…I’m sure he’d look out at all of you…the ones who made his moments beautiful…and say…before closing his eyes for the last time…what a wonderful way to have spent my life.”

“Goodbye old friend. We will miss you…

you left us with so many beautiful moments 

before you closed your eyes….

So many beautiful memories…

What a wonderful way to say goodbye.”

I remember the day of her funeral…I noticed him…right from the start…and his is the memory that stands above all the others…that, to this day, remains etched in my heart.

The first pew in the church sat empty…except for her youngest grandson (his parents said he wanted it that way)…he said when it came time to talk about Grandma…he had something he wanted to say.

When the pastor nodded to him…he walked to the podium without an escort…he looked out over the crowd in attendance…then with a quick glance to his parents for support

he closed his eyes…touched his hand to his heart…and finding strength from somewhere within it…he said, “This world was a much better place when my grandma was living in it.”

As he walked back to his family…his footfalls were the only sounds in that church you could hear…and, if you could muster the energy to look up, you’d have seen a church that was filling with tears.

The pastor closed his bible…he ended the service knowing no more scriptures needed to be read…knowing, after the words her grandson spoke, nothing more needed to be said.

Yes, of all the wonderful stories told at her funeral…all the compliments…all the praises…all the boasts…it’s those brief words spoken by her grandson…that I shall remember most.

NEVER FADE AWAY

It was well over a year since Grandma died 

and whenever we visited Grandpa he’d give us quite a scare

because he would talk to Grandma…as if she was standing there.

Sometimes he would close his eyes and, on his face, a smile would crack,

as if he was listening to Grandma…and she was talking back!

At first we weren’t too concerned because we know how lonely Grandpa was

We’ve all felt the pain of loss…We know what sorrow does.

But it had been well over a year now and every time we returned

and watched him talk to Grandma…I admit…we were concerned.

One day we approached Grandpa as he sat in his favorite chair

and told him we we’re worried how he talks to Grandma…even though she isn’t there.

Grandpa smiled and said, “Don’ t worry family! I know your Grandma’s dead…but talking to her helps to keep her voice inside my head.

Talking to her throughout the day and dreaming of what she might say…keeps the memory of her voice alive…so it will never fade away.

Thank you for caring about me but there’s no need to worry.” Grandpa said

“Isn’t that right Grandma…then he closed his eyes and waited before smiling and nodding his head.

And from that day forward we never worried about Grandpa…never again felt sad or blue…because from that day forward we found ourselves talking to Grandma too.

It’s been well over a year now since Grandpa joined Grandma in heaven…and I talk to both of them almost every day…

ensuring the memory of their voices will remain in my head

never to fade away.

The young son came to his father…not long after his Grandpa had died…with tears still lingering in his eyes…eyes that were open wide.

“I know that Grandpa’s gone,” he said, “and at the funeral we said goodbye…but is there anyway to visit him in heaven…or do I have to wait until I die?”

“There are always visiting hours in heaven.” Dad said. “But to heaven you don’t have to climb…because heaven has made it easy to visit Grandpa…any place…at any time.”

“If you close your eyes and think about Grandpa…quickly you will see…you can visit him anytime you want…where he lives…in your memory.”

“And if you ever have a question for him…here’s what you need to do…ask your question…close your eyes…listen…Grandpa will answer you.”

“You see, heaven is not just the place people go when from this world they depart…I believe each of us has a little piece of heaven…right here…inside our heart.”

“It’s the way we were created…the way we were designed…it’s where those we love, before they go, leave a piece of themselves behind.”

“And when we want to visit them…this moment…or long after they have died…we only need to close our eyes…think about them…and take a look inside…”

“Look inside your heart…right now…that’s what I’m going to do…that’s where you’ll find your Grandpa…waiting patiently for you.”

Dad held his son’s hand in his…said, “lose your eyes”…and with their fingers interlaced…

“Hi Dad!”

“Hi Grandpa!”

You could hear them whisper…

as a smile lit up each face.

Today…a little good news…news that, hopefully, makes you glad…

even though this good news…originated from the bad.

This story begins five years ago…it takes its initial breath inside a women’s sadness…grieving her son’s death.

Move ahead five years…her son’s birthday is today…

and her grief resurfaces as it always does…for it will never go away.

She wanted a way to deal with her grief…in the best way that she could…

Hoping from her sadness…she could create something good.

She thought and thought searching for an idea…and when her thinking was done…

She decided to find a way to give…to another mother and her son.

Move now to a mother picking up her son’s birthday cake…tears of joy and sorrow she cried when she opened up the cake box and read the note inside.

It was from the mother of the son who died…Tyler was his name…written to the mother of the son who lives…whose birthdays are the same.

She paid for the cake in honor of her son…to keep his memory bright…

The note said…enjoy the day…make special memories and hug your children and loved ones tight.

She chose this way to commemorate her son..to help keep his memory awake…

Because as a mother she loved birthdays…while her son loved birthday cakes.

The words were written lovingly…they were compassionate and kind…

Love, Toni, Tylers mom…is how the note was signed

I like to think it was the best birthday…and best birthday cake…that family ever had

As one woman found a way for something good…

to come out of something bad.

Dear Grandpa,

Mommy said you went to heaven…she said it’s not like going to the store…she said, once you go to heaven…we won’t be seeing you no more.

She said whenever I am sad and missing you…there is something I can do…she said to send my thoughts to heaven and they’ll find their way to you.

She said I should write you a letter and my sadness will recede…besides she said you know your grandpa…and how much he likes to read.

She said to do the best I can for she knows I’m just a boy…she said not to write about how sad I am…but to write about our joy.

I remember all those books you’d read to me…my favorite was the dancing giraffe…I remember all those jokes you’d tell…all those times you made me laugh.

I remember watching TV in your arms…falling asleep before the show was through…I remember waking up to find…you were sleeping too.

I remember throwing airplanes in the park…watching them soar so high…I remember when you’d pick me up..and together we would fly.

Hey, you know Mom was right…she said if sat down and wrote you a letter

that I wouldn’t be as sad…that it would make me feel better.

But I’m a little tired now…I hope you understand

If I bring this letter to a close…because all this writing hurts my hand…

But do not worry Grandpa…I’ll send you letters day and night…

because I have a lot more paper…and so much more to write.

So good night Grandpa…I hope this letter finds you happy…

when it finds you in the sky….

Mom said I should say good night…

and never say goodbye.

I had a conversation in the bookstore the other night with a couple about my age…the husband is battling prostrate cancer…it’s in its final stage.

He’s undergoing a new radium infusion therapy…having endured chemotherapy and radiation’s rays…and they were pleased to announce this was the first time he’d been out of the house in days.

“We’re hoping this therapy gives me a little more time.” He said and his wife readily agreed. “Because,” and here he smiled, “there’s a few more books I’d like to read.”

He bought a couple of books…his wife put them in her sack…and he smiled at me as they slowly walked away saying, “God willing…I’ll be back.”

As I watched them walk away I thought…what a different world we see… when we come face to face…with our own mortality.

I imagine when we’re looking at the end…when we know we’re living our final days…what’s important to us rises to the top…while what isn’t slips away.

I imagine we might wish for one more moment…when we know our life will be over soon…to make more footprints in the sand…or gaze up at the moon.

One more moment to hug our family…to look into their eyes…one more moment just to wake up and see one more sun begin to rise.

That’s what I found myself wishing for this man…as he faded from my sight

Hoping he’ll have more moments….as for his life he fights.

I know in the time he has left…there’s nothing he will overlook…

and I’m hoping he has a few more moments…to read a few more books.

Enora used to take him walking in the woods…they would listen to the trees….They would stop to touch the flowers…watch the butterfly and bees.

Enora loved to walk among the birds…she knew them all by name……She did not have a favorite one…for she loved them all the same.

She would close her eyes and listen to their songs…their melodies without words….“Oh I would give anything.” She’d say…”to be singing with these birds.”

On the day Enora passed away…the Enora he adored…he ran into the forest…to the place where they explored.

He remembered how they walked these woods..and all the wonders they had found…but he was not expecting…what he discovered on the ground.

He was thinking of Enora…when suddenly he heard…plaintive cries…what sounded like the moaning of a bird?

He looked around and then he saw it… a few steps up ahead…a baby bird had fallen from the nest…the baby bird was dead.

He scooped her in his hands as gently as he could…then in a voice both sad and calm…he looked up in the tree and said, “I’m sorry!” to the mom.

Tears cascaded down his cheek…as he looked into the mother bird’s eyes…as he listened to her somber tweet…as he watched the mother bird cry?

He nestled the bird within his hands…she was a beautiful shade of blue…then carried her back to his front porch…unsure what to do.

As his thoughts returned to Enora…it became easy to decide….He filled an old shoe box with cotton…then laid the bird inside.

He carried that box back back to the woods…got on his hands and knees…and with mom (and Enora) watching….buried her beneath that tree.

“I know that you’re unhappy, momma bird.” He said.  “Wishing things were different than they were.”…but your baby’s with Enora now…and she’ll take care of her…”

Then he looked up to the heavens…searching in his heart for the right words…“I think you got her wish Enora.” He said…”have fun singing with the birds.”

Then the momma bird landed on a lower branch…and sang the sweetest lullaby

as both boy and bird found their own way…

to say their last good-bye.

After her mother died she watched her father begin to fade away.

He was always a quiet man, reserved, polite…soft spoken.

but now he hardly ever said a word…she could see his heart was broken.

When he did speak…it was only in whispers…he told her silence was his choice.

He did not want a sound…any sound…to muffle the memory of her voice.

When she asked him why he stopped his morning walks…he smiled,

“I am happy sitting here…thinking about her.”

“Besides,” he smiled, “my feet aren’t as trustworthy as they used to be…It seems they don’t know where to go without her.”

She stopped by every day to comfort him…the father she adored…but with each visit he seems a little sadder…a little older…he seemed to fade away a little more.

Until the day she came and found him in his favorite chair…his favorite place…he’d gone to be with her mother…and for the first time in a long time…he had a smile on his face.

“Goodbye, Daddy.” She said kissing his cheek…then laying her head inside his palm…”Have a safe trip…and when you get to Heaven…say Hi for me…to Mom.”

Then glancing down she smiled through her tears…as she whispered, “I’ll miss you Daddy…but I am happy knowing…even though it took a while…you’re feet know where they’re going.