There’s a misty werewolf moon tonight
and it reminds me of a poem I wrote you
just over 6 months ago
before you were born,
while you were still with us.
The stars twinkle reassuringly
in the cold night sky,
but the gloominess of this moon
covered in snatches of thin clouds
like scattered veils,
brings me to tears.
Perhaps it shines brighter from your side
—up in Heaven—
with no clouds in the way.
One day, honey, promise you’ll show me.
This poem is dedicated to the children of my close friend, who recently suffered an early miscarriage, shortly after the joy of discovering she was expecting another little one. They feel quite sure he was a boy, and have named him Joseph, just like my little Josephine. I’m sure they’re playing together right now.
As Dr. Seuss says, “A person’s a person, no matter how small,” and there is no one too small to be honoured here in Crazy Land, so here is a little poem, with love.
Little Joe Plays Peek-A-Boo
Little Joe plays peek-a-boo,
he pops up his smiling head
just long enough to blow a kiss
then to his heavenly bed
He snuggles down
his golden crown
of angel’s softest thread
sweetly woven and gently placed
upon his tiny head
And in between his pleasant dreams
he gazes down at you
and smiles to see
bravely carrying on
the hearts who love him true
And if the tears come
now and then
don’t worry or feel shame
your little brother gathers them
like precious jewels
and with them writes your name
Speak to him softly
he hears you
oh so close though he seems far
for between hearts that love each other
there is no gate or bar
Your Joseph keeps the windows open
and the latch upon the Heavenly door
is open ever ready
for when you all come Home
once more
If it’s only by crying
that I can understand
the tears of others
then let me wear them like pearls
If it’s only by losing hope
that I can bring it to others
then let it fly away
If it’s only by breaking my heart
that it can become
big enough to hold everyone
break it
If it’s only by my desolation
that I can walk the valley of grief
with others
then strip me bare
Let my fragility bring others courage
my vulnerability, strength
And from my emptiness
let Your light burst forth
and shine
Lead us through the valley of grief
because if we walk it together
it will bring us Home
Glassy blue-green perfection
Of the still mountain lake
You are like a magic mirror
A portal into another world
A solemn reflection
With treetops pointing down
To a sky so far below
I feel I could fall for miles
before I reached it
Here on the dock it seems I’m far above the earth
Looking down on a highway of clouds
Wondering if you’re down there somewhere
In this other world
And if I could reach you
The sun shines brighter for a moment
And glows as a golden orb
Floating in that watery sky
Beckoning me
Sending me rippling smiles
As the brightness surrounds me
Here on the dock
On the quiet lake
Before I leave
I plunge in my hand
Into the liquid sky
To feel the coldness
Of the January water
My hand burns a little
And I imagine
It’s almost as cold as you are now
I choke and stand up
Lamenting that I can’t reach Heaven
By jumping into this sky
I received this beautiful advice on grief during the holidays from my lovely big sister. Having been widowed when her children were very small, she knows about grief…that we can’t skip it, but have to go through it. She has been a great support to me since I lost the baby.
Hi sweetie,
I know all these celebratory days are falling flat under the weight of your enormous grief. It’s awful and expected and normal. That doesn’t help. Nothing really helps. You have to ride the wave of it. It will wash over you again and again. Sometimes you’ll think the tide is way out there, that you’re safe and far away from it, and yet another wave will cut you off at the knees.
The intervals will eventually get farther apart and yet when a wave hits you, it will feel every bit as intense. That, in my experience, is just how it goes.
The thing is – the waves will send you spinning but they won’t drown you. You’ll keep going because you are tough and resilient and wise and beautiful and have a thousand blessings to offset the struggle.
All my love,
Dymphny
I wanted to post these words today for all others who are grieving, and especially in honour of two of my friends who recently had fairly early miscarriages. My heart is with you as you ache for your babies in Heaven. Your truly lost a little child, just like me. All the potential for a whole life was there in that tiny little being, that new little soul created in love. It is understandable that your heart is broken. This child—with their unique DNA, their individual soul, their mysterious mission—can never be repeated. It is ok that you long for them forever. Forever will come.
May you be comforted by family and friends, and carried by grace through the ever changing tides of grief. And as you keep swimming to that distant shore of peace, know that you will be a sign of hope for others.
Little one
When you arrived
You were like a little rosebud
Picked in the rain
Crinkled, crimson, vulnerable
And I was afraid
Time would tarnish you further
My heart quaked before seeing you again
And I felt terrible to be a mother afraid
To see her own child
The first night it was true
You were so cold
As if the frost had bitten your beauty
And your stillness was so solemn
I left you that night
Weeping and broken
With a sprig of baby’s breath
Clutched in your tiny fists
But when we returned
Two days later to visit you
Kindly laid out by the hospital chaplain
You were rosier
Your cheeks were fuller
Like the little rosebud
Had begun to unfurl
Such a mercy
Your three biggest sisters
Could find you lovely
Patting your cheek
Holding your tiny hands in theirs
Proudly having their picture taken with you
Their baby
They took turns leaving kisses
On your sweet face
One of the few gifts
You could take to Heaven
But the most beautiful day of all
Was the last one we saw you
At the funeral chapel
Our sweet funeral director Michelle
Suggested I help dress you
In the one dress you’ll wear forever
The one I searched the city for
And finally found in a little Italian shop
On the east side of town
Where the Italian grandmas embraced me
And exclaimed “Que bella, que bella!” at your photo
It was a fall baptismal dress
A cosy knitted one from Europe
With a matching sweater and booties
Creamy white with little bits of shiny pink
The last one in the store
Meant for you
So the day before your funeral
Michelle brought you to us
Carrying you in her arms
With the affection and tenderness of a mother
Wrapped in your cosy blanket
The warmest and softest one I could find
And, little rose, you were in bloom!
Your beauty was enchanting
You sparkled as Daddy held you close
And I even laughed and said
You were our little snow queen
You looked so real, so alive
So much like a little baby sleeping
That your grandmother
Meeting you for the first time
Couldn’t help rocking you back and forth
“My baby, my baby!”
So many came that day
All your five children siblings
Your two uncles
And one aunt
And our friend Fr. Uy
Who delivered your crown
You must have felt the affection
Poured on you as everyone took their turn
To hold you, our precious one
And I remember my brother Monti
The one who flew from Hawaii to be here for me
Saying as he held you, “She’s ok. She’s really ok.”
And as we crowned you with a tiny crown
Of yellow and white flowers
Laced with sparkles
And a tiny medal of our Lady
Hand sewn for hours that morning
By a woman from the parish we hardly knew
You, darling, simply glowed
Sharing with us
A tiny glimpse
Of the radiance of Heaven
We would that the leaves be ever green
but it is in their turning
in their burning colours
that they become precious
It is in their being stripped bare
that the trees make us long
for a beauty eternal
A flame undying
A love unending
An embrace of safety
without fear quaking
without us shaking
A peace to still the trembling
of our mortal hearts
The grass is still green
on this side of the world
The sun still shines red
through my eyelids
It warms my upturned face
as the fall leaves fall
with delicate grace
Children still laugh
and the birds still fly
Flowers open and close
You’re gone away
little one
but closer than ever
No longer does your heart
beat in my body
That quick little drum
has faded now
But now that you’ve gone
to be with the stars
you’ve ripped open my heart
exposed Heaven within and
I’ve found you
closer than ever
here in my soul
Josephine flashed before us
with the brightness and beauty
of a shooting star
Our hearts are broken by the briefness
of her visit with us
She has climbed onto our Father God’s lap
and is whispering to him our secrets
with sweet confidence
Speak to her in your hearts
the only language she will ever know is love
This March was marked by various first steps: the first steps of my husband’s grandmother Doris Doherty into heaven, and the first steps of our little boy here on earth. He waited until his Daddy got back home from the funeral in Ontario before he walked, and then took his first four steps towards us shortly after he got back from the airport.
So here are some pictures of spring flowers in honour of the kind, warm, playful grandmother we are missing, with her wonderful sense of humour and warm British accent; though her voice may fade from our ears, we will ever hear it in our hearts.
Sometimes, the sight of spring flowers and the sound of birds singing again after the silence of winter is enough to make me believe in heaven. That there is a beauty which endures beyond death, and that the bonds of love are truly indestructible.
Even a few brave bees are foraging among the flowers for nectar on this chilly spring day, and bringing their findings back home. May all who are struggling and suffering be as strong as these hopeful bees, who never give up believing that as long as they keep working together, they can make sweetness out of their struggle.
Just East Of Crazy Land 