Category: bereaved

Poetry from 2016

David Arnold

This is what I woke to spinning in my head this morning. It is about a group of mothers that have 1 thing in common the loss and bereavement of a child.

Yes there really is a group here in the surrounding area where these moms meet to help one another find a new path without their child in their life…..

The Listening Hearts

When a woman gives birth to a child her heart grows bigger in every way. As her children grows she prays everyday to keep them from harm in hopes that they will grow strong.

Then one day there comes a knock on the door, it’s the worst nightmare a mother can hear as she falls to the floor, she was given news that the child she did bore was found living no more.

Her heart gave out as she started to shout, what will I do, I can’t live without you?

As the days grew longer the nightmares got stronger and she found herself not wanting to live any longer.

Then along came a friend that said, “let me lend you a hand, I want you to meet other mothers like you that do not know what to do.”

These mothers they meet to find answers they seek, instead of the hand they find a new friend whose heart is broken just like them.

They listen with understanding and compassion to every word you are passing for they too, are hurting like you and are needing a new heart and asking, where do I start?

Listen, do you hear that beat?

It’s other mothers that are here now standing at your feet, and they greet you with kisses on the cheek. It is these other mothers who have lost their child’s hearts too and they now welcome you.

There is a bond that no one other than a mother of the Listening Hearts can hear as they tell you that you my dear are always welcomed here!

Listening Hearts where moms find others in a similar struggle, a bereaved heart that is missing a beat from losing a child.

Surviving Mothers Day One Breath At A Time

Mary Beth Cichocki

Mothers Day.  Those two words once brought happy memories of cards and flowers, crabs and beer. My family gathered together to celebrate motherhood.  Three generations laughing and loving. Sharing the memories of childhood, then teen years that became adult years  changing our families women into mothers. Every year we gathered together at my house.   A beautiful family tradition.  Grandmothers, Aunts, Mother in Law, sister, sons and daughter.  To celebrate family and love.  This year Mother’s Day grabs my heart and shatters it like glass.  Broken in too many pieces to ever be repaired.  Our family forever changed by addiction.  A beautiful family tradition now missing a very large presence.

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A Toybox Heart at Christmas

Tracy Bradshaw

This is the fourth Christmas that I’ve not put up a tree or decorated the house. I have only been shopping one time, and I’m okay with that. My heart just isn’t in the traditional family gift giving anymore. No doubt, the reason for that is because I don’t have a list for Sawyer with “Mommy, this is my Christmas list. Love, Sawyer.” Now, Sawyer was nineteen years old and called me mom, EXCEPT when he wanted something. “Mommy,” melted my heart, and he knew it. “Mommy” persuaded me to buy too many presents at Christmas, take way too many trips to Taco Bell, and even occasionally pay his rent. I miss those times when he could rely on me, and he went about it with such tender affection.

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Another New Year

julie mcgregor

Julie McGregor

Originally published in Listening Hearts Newsletter Jan-Feb 2012

Another Christmas with all the activities had come and gone, and once again my husband Roy and I celebrated New Year’s Eve with good friends. We were in a room full of people, all happy and laughing, making their New Year resolutions.

I wondered what sad stories may be hiding behind some of the faces in the room, as people put on their mask once again, so the world doesn’t see their pain. I know for certain one friend at our table hides the deep pain of a son’s suicide, many years ago, in a time when such things were hushed up and rarely spoken of since. We only found out when we lost our son Joel, four and a half years ago, and then it was through the wife of his second marriage. We had known this friend for four years, and were shocked, and while we knew he felt our deep pain, sadly he still couldn’t bring himself to speak of it.

another new year collage of bereaved mother and son
another new year collage of bereaved mother and son

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