Inspirational/memorial poems, quotes and sayings - W

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What Makes a Mother?

I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.

"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"

"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many woman babies,
When they leave is not their choice.

Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."

"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.

"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say...

'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.

I miss my Mommy oh so much,
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear,
"Mommy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here."

"So you see my dear sweet ones,
your children are okay.
You're babies are here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.

They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
it's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.

Though some on earth may not realize,
you are a Mother,
Until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
and know that you are the best one.
~ Jennifer Wasik

We enjoy warmth because we have been cold.
We appreciate light because we have been in darkness.
By the same token, we can experience joy
because we have known sadness.
~ David Weatherford

If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you. ~ Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)

Promise me you'll never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave. ~ Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)

What is Normal Now?

I was jokingly asked recently what normal meant by a friend and I thought about it and jotted these things down. It is amazing what can become "normal" to us. I'm sure you could all change the names and a few circumstances and your normal is very close to mine.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Christmas, birthday, Valentine's day, and Easter.

Normal is discussing with a friend in the Netherlands how different funeral customs are there than here. Discussing how much both our sons loved trains and how the train sets now collect dust.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or a birthday party. Yet, feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers, see that casket, and all the crying people.

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming cause you just don't like to sit through church anymore. And yet feeling like you have more faith and belief in God than you ever have had before.

Normal is going to bed feeling like your child who is alive got cheated out of happy cheerful parents and instead she is stuck with sober, cautious people.

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your families' life.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's and why didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise because the silence is deafening.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is seeing my daughter standing at her brother's grave and thinking, how could this be normal? She shouldn't have to be going through this.

Normal is telling the story of my baby's death as if it were an everyday common place activity and then gasping in horror at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become part of our normal.

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and their birthday and survive those days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is getting up early to exercise (when I really hate exercise) because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is disliking jokes about death, funerals. Bodies being referred to as cadavers when you know they were once someone's loved one.

Normal is being impatient with everything but someone stricken with grief over the loss of their child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends in England, Australia, Netherlands, Canada, and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother and meeting for coffee and talking and crying together over our children and our new lives. And worrying together over our living children.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned house or did laundry or if there is any food in the house.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have 1 or 2 children because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that one of them is in heaven. And yet when you say only 1 to avoid that problem you feel horrible as if you have betrayed that child.

Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small happy children that break your heart when you see them.

And last of all normal is hiding all the things that have become normal for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
~ Vicki Windham

The articulateness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you, and no one else can fit it. Why would I want them to? ~ Jeannette Winterson