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Talking about our losses ....


Ann

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A friend emailed me this poem and I wanted to share it with you. I know we often have mentioned how people just don't want to talk about the loss of our loved ones, often for fear it will bring us pain. This poem deals with this so well.

Please See Me Through My Tears

by Kelly Osmont

You asked, "How am I doing?"

As I told you, tears came to my eyes...

and you looked away and quickly began to talk again.

All the attention you had given me drained away.

"How am I doing?"...I do better when people listen,

though I may shed a tear or two.

This pain is indescribable.

If you've never known it you cannot fully understand.

Yet I need you.

When you look away,

When I'm ignored,

I am again alone with it

Your attention means more than you can ever know.

Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know!

They're nature's way of helping me to heal...

They relieve some of the stress of sadness.

I know you fear that asking how I'm doing brings me sadness

...but you're wrong.

The memory of my loved one's death will always be with me,

Only a thought away.

My tears make my pain more visible to you, but you did not

give me the pain...it was already there.

When I cry, could it be that you feel helpless, not knowing

what to do?

You are not helpless,

And you don't need to do a thing but be there.

When I feel your permission to allow my tears to flow,

you've helped me

You need not speak. Your silence as I cry is all I need.

Be patient...do not fear.

Listening with your heart to "how I am doing"

relieves the pain,

for when the tears can freely come and go, I feel lighter.

Talking to you releases what I've been wanting to say aloud,

clearing space

for a touch of joy in my life.

I'll cry for a minute or two...

and then I'll wipe my eyes,

and sometimes you'll even find I'm laughing later.

When I hold back the tears, my throat grows tight,

my chest aches, my stomach knots...

because I'm trying to protect you from my tears.

Then we both hurt...me, because my pain is held inside,

a shield against our closeness...and you,

because suddenly we're distant.

So please, take my hand and see me through my tears...

then we can be close again.

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I love this, and on one level I really relate to it...

But on another I wonder if I'm the only one who *doesn't* like to talk about it... save in very safe places like here. I get all squirmy when people ask 'how are you?' type questions... Maybe it's because I underestimate people and figure they don't really care... But I'm not comfortable with people looking at me and saying, "So how are you?" And if (and very rarely when) people ask about my grief process I feel really uncomfortable talking about it. Am I just weird?

I guess I just haven't found very many safe places to really cry yet.

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Ann,

What a very special poem....thank you so much for sharing it with us.

You are a very lucky person to have that kind of friend that would give that to you. She/He gets " IT" and that friend understands what you and so many here have gone through or ARE going through like Donna.

I am printing this poem out and putting in a special place.

Warm Hugs,

Melinda

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