ChatterBank2 mins ago
Just About Got Through Yesterday But Today.......
26 Answers
I feel so sad - its been 5 days now since my mum passed away and today I feel worse than ever......just can't stop crying.
Funeral isn't for another 13 days because of the holidays :-( Just wish it was all over now.
I've chosen the music but now searching for a suitable poem or reading - can anyone recommend one?
Thank you
Funeral isn't for another 13 days because of the holidays :-( Just wish it was all over now.
I've chosen the music but now searching for a suitable poem or reading - can anyone recommend one?
Thank you
Answers
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Yele, so sorry for your loss xx
There are ab'ers who will offer some beautiful poems
Mrs O put grief as a cascade of waves with your back to the beach, you just never know when one will crash over you, I thought that was a lovely way to put it.
Would you like a poem reflecting on mum's life, or just a general one about sleeping?
There are ab'ers who will offer some beautiful poems
Mrs O put grief as a cascade of waves with your back to the beach, you just never know when one will crash over you, I thought that was a lovely way to put it.
Would you like a poem reflecting on mum's life, or just a general one about sleeping?
So sorry to hear that, yelenots. See what you think of the following verse.
Henry Scott Holland: "I have only slipped away into the next room"
Klimt_ria_munk_on_deathbed_by_freep
I suppose all of us hover between two ways of regarding death, which appear to be in hopeless contradiction with each other. First there is the familiar and instinctive recoil from it as embodying the supreme and irrevocable disaster...
But, then, there is another aspect altogether which death can wear for us. It is that which first comes to us, perhaps, as we look down upon the quiet face, so cold and white, of one who has been very near and dear to us. There it lies in possession of its own secret. It knows it all. So we seem to feel. And what the face says in its sweet silence to us as a last message from one whom we loved is:
"Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"
So the face speaks. Surely while we speak there is a smile flitting over it; a smile as of gentle fun at the trick played us by seeming death....
--Canon Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918), from a sermon preached 15 May 1910, Saint Paul's, London.
Henry Scott Holland: "I have only slipped away into the next room"
Klimt_ria_munk_on_deathbed_by_freep
I suppose all of us hover between two ways of regarding death, which appear to be in hopeless contradiction with each other. First there is the familiar and instinctive recoil from it as embodying the supreme and irrevocable disaster...
But, then, there is another aspect altogether which death can wear for us. It is that which first comes to us, perhaps, as we look down upon the quiet face, so cold and white, of one who has been very near and dear to us. There it lies in possession of its own secret. It knows it all. So we seem to feel. And what the face says in its sweet silence to us as a last message from one whom we loved is:
"Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"
So the face speaks. Surely while we speak there is a smile flitting over it; a smile as of gentle fun at the trick played us by seeming death....
--Canon Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918), from a sermon preached 15 May 1910, Saint Paul's, London.
Yele, I feel so much for you xx
OH read this poem at my mother's funeral, it's lovely and it felt very comforting:
What is Dying?
A ship sails and I stand watching it till it fades on the horizon.
Someone at my side says, "She is gone."
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large as when I saw her.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her.
And just at that moment, when someone at your side says, "She is gone"
There are others who are watching her coming.
And other voices take up the glad shout.
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
OH read this poem at my mother's funeral, it's lovely and it felt very comforting:
What is Dying?
A ship sails and I stand watching it till it fades on the horizon.
Someone at my side says, "She is gone."
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large as when I saw her.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her.
And just at that moment, when someone at your side says, "She is gone"
There are others who are watching her coming.
And other voices take up the glad shout.
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
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 glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not here; I did not die.
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep is a poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye. Although the origin of the poem was disputed until later in her life, Mary Frye's authorship was confirmed in 1998 after research by Abigail Van Buren, a newspaper columnist.[1]
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not here; I did not die.
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep is a poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye. Although the origin of the poem was disputed until later in her life, Mary Frye's authorship was confirmed in 1998 after research by Abigail Van Buren, a newspaper columnist.[1]
My local funeral director gave me this on the day we buried my mother - 23 March 2012 - and whenever i am feeling real low, i savour the words.
When tomorrow starts without me and i'm not here to see
If the sun should rise and find your eyes awash with tears for me
I wish so much you wouldn't cry the way you did today
While thinking of the many things we didn't get to say
But when tomorrow starts without me please try to understand
That Jesus came and called my name and took me by the hand
And said my place was ready in heaven far above
And that i'd have to leave behind all those i dearly love
So when tomorrow starts without me don't think we're far apart
For every time you think of me, I'm right here in your heart.
When tomorrow starts without me and i'm not here to see
If the sun should rise and find your eyes awash with tears for me
I wish so much you wouldn't cry the way you did today
While thinking of the many things we didn't get to say
But when tomorrow starts without me please try to understand
That Jesus came and called my name and took me by the hand
And said my place was ready in heaven far above
And that i'd have to leave behind all those i dearly love
So when tomorrow starts without me don't think we're far apart
For every time you think of me, I'm right here in your heart.
yelenots, if you are up for it, I will put something together. What I would need is eight to ten lines (or bullet points) on what you consider were important things and attributes in her life, the essence of her as a person. The more there is the merrier.
my throwaway e-mail is [email protected]
my throwaway e-mail is [email protected]
-- answer removed --
Feel free when you wish, yelenots......I will try to capture the essence of your Mum and reflect it in words for you. Have done it for a few ABers, some for personal memory, others who have shared it either by reading it out or posting it on a memory board at the wake. I really don't mind which as it's your comfort and memories that are the important things here. Turn-around - one or two days but as we clear the New Year, I will be much busier.....
I am so sorry for your loss yelenots, my thoughts and prayers are with you at this sad time.
Her Journey’s Just Begun
Don’t think of her as gone away
her journey’s just begun
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.
Just think of her as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days or years.
Think how she must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.
And think of her as living
in the hearts of those she touched
for nothing loved is ever lost
and she was loved so much.
Her Journey’s Just Begun
Don’t think of her as gone away
her journey’s just begun
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.
Just think of her as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days or years.
Think how she must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.
And think of her as living
in the hearts of those she touched
for nothing loved is ever lost
and she was loved so much.
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