grown with love by Mom
|MY MOM MADE THIS GARDEN IN BILLY'S MEMORY
|SHE TAKES GREAT PRIDE IN IT
A Rose once grew where all could see
The Rose Still Blooms
a garden wall
and,as the days passed swiftly by.
It spread its branches,
straight and tall.
One day,a beam of
light shone through.
A crevice that had opened wide.
The rose bent gently towards its warmth
Then passed beyond to
the other side.
Now,you who deeply feel it's loss.
Be comforted--the rose blooms there.
Its beauty even greater now
by Gods own loving care.
"Tears Are the Proof of Life"
"How long will the pain last?" a broken-hearted
mourner asked me. "All the rest of your life." I had to answer truthfully. We never quite forget. No matter
how many years pass, we remember. The loss of a loved one is like a major operation; part of us is removed, and we have a
scar for the rest of our lives. This does not mean that the pain continues at the same intensity. There is a short
while, at first, when we hardly believe it; it is rather like when we cut our hand. We see the blood flowing, but the pain
has not set in yet. So when we are bereaved, there is a short while before the pain hits us. But when it does,
it is massive in its effect. Grief is shattering. Then the wound begins to heal. It is like going through a dark
tunnel. Occasionally we glimpse a bit of light up ahead, then we lose sight of it awhile, then see it again, and one
day we merge into the light. We are able to laugh, to care, to live. The wound is healed so to speak. The
stitches are taken out, and we are whole again. But not quite. The scar is still there, and the scar tissue, too.
As the years go by, we manage. There are things to do, people to care for, and tasks that call for full attention.
But the pain is still there, not far below the surface. We see a face that looks familiar, hear a voice that has echoes,
see a photograph in someone's album, see a landscape that once we saw together, and it as though the knife were in the wound
again. But not so painfully, and mixed with joy, too. Because remembering a happy time is not all sorrow; it brings
back happiness with it. As a matter of fact, we even seek such moments in bittersweet remembrance. We have our
religious memories and our memorial days, and our visits to the cemetery. And though these bring back the pain, they
bring back memories of joy as well.
How long will the pain last?
All the rest of you life. But the thing to remember is that not only the pain will last, but the blessed memories as
well. Tears are the proof of life. The more love, the more tears. If this were true, then how could we ever
ask that the pain cease altogether? For then the memory of love would go with it. The pain of grief is the price
we pay for love.
I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, so I
drank soda instead. I really felt proud inside, Mom, the way you said I would. I didn't drink and drive, Mom, even though
the others said I should. I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending,
Mom, as everyone is driving out of sight.
As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised
me, so responsible and sweet. I started to drive away, Mom, but as I pulled into the road the other car didn't see me, Mom,
and hit me like a load. As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say, the other guy is drunk, Mom, and now
I'm the one who will pay. I'm lying here dying, Mom. I wish you'd get here soon. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life
just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, Mom, and most of it is mine. I hear the medic say, Mom, I'll
die in a short time. I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn't drink. It was the others, Mom. The others didn't think.
He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank and I will die.
Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains
just like a knife. The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don't think it's fair. I'm lying here dying and all he can do
Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I go to heaven, Mom,
put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave. Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive. If only they had told him, Mom,
I would still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I'm becoming very scared. Please don't cry for me, Mom.
When I needed you, you were always there. I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye. I didn't drink and drive,
so why am I the one to die?
Near to the door he paused to stand
as he took his class ring off her hand
who were watching did not speak
as a silent tear ran down his cheek
and through his mind the memories ran
the moments they walked
and ran in the sand hand and hand
but now her eyes were so terribly cold
for he would
never again have her to hold
they watched in silence as he bent near
and whispered the words......
"I LOVE YOU"
in her ear
he touched her face and started to cry
as he put on his ring and wanted to die
and just then the wind
began to blow
as they lowered her casket into the snow....
is what happens to man alive.....
when friends let friends.... drink and drive.
LOVE PEOPLE FOR WHO THEY ARE,
NOT WHAT THEY ARE
A well known speaker started
off his seminar by holding up a $20.00 bill. In the room of 200, he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill? "Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this."
He proceeded to crumple the dollar
bill up. He then asked, "Who still wants it?"
Still the hands were up in the air. Well, he replied, "What if
I do this?" And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into
the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty."Now who still wants it?" Still the hands went into the air. My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to
the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the
circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But
no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value: Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased,
you are still priceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives comes
not in what we do or who we know, but by Who We Are. You
are special - Don't EVER forget it. Love people for who they are, not what they are.
- author unknown