I remember you from when I lost my son. I visited your webpage and read the newsletters. But, deep down, I thought you had forgotten. I assumed you had moved on and found success and happiness. ..I was afraid to move on because I was afraid to forget. I knew I couldn’t moved on until I found someone who understood. I am lost and I don’t know where to turn. Looking for possible directions, I decided to explore on the internet... I accidentally stumbled across the poem you wrote, I don’t even know the name of it...just that it is copyrighted in 2000...which means you haven’t forgotten. Which means maybe I can go on...and not forget about Anthony after all. Maybe I can use my talents and my time and energy to make a difference, somehow and somewhere. Like you. For a moment, a different train of thought for me. Maybe now uncontrollable anger doesn’t have to be my constant companion nor suicide my destiny. I started to read the poem as an adult and then, through our passionate words, I have become a wounded little girl again. It was me there with you on the closet floor. Now I know I finally found someone who truly understands. The same someone who was able and willing to say it right. In a way I and others can understand. In a way, that directly conveys the awfulness of it. In a way that is eventually going to reach out and grab ahold of all the people who need to read it. In the way I couldn’t do it. You have succeeded indeed. That is what I was waiting for, for understanding. I knew I only needed one. One person to truly understand what I have felt and experienced. I read it again and that one person IS you. I didn’t think it could be you because I thought you had forgotten. Clearly, and thankfully, I was wrong in my assumption. A glorious moment and a “morsel of patience” for me. A moment of peace. I want to ask death to take me tonight, right now, before I have to feel anymore pain. But I think I see some bread crumbs. Perhaps the bread crumbs will lead me somewhere after all. Somewhere where I can live as Christopher’s mommy and where I can keep Anthony alive in my heart and in the hearts of others. There is enough hope to make it a few more hours. And then? Perhaps a few more bread crumbs...
Name Withheld
Dear Writer: Thank you for so beautifully expressing what we all do feel...Your letter moved me to tears many, many times. —Joanne
First of all, I must say thank you for compiling such a beautiful newsletter. The kindness projects are very uplifting. I went through my pregnancy alone and found myself even more along after she was stillborn. To be a single parent is even more isolating in such a small community as grieving parents. I have come to cherish the information in your newsletter because you tend to focus on remembrance, action and the gifts our children gave us, rather than on how to save a marriage and dealing with loss as a couple. I thought you should be thanked for all the wonderful things your organization is accomplishing.
“She blows bubbles when I visit her that dance on tree tops, daffodils and granite stones; wind blown kisses letting me know she is near.” Thank you,
Teresa Matson
My name is Bonnie Davis and my son, Adam, has a terminal illness called Tay Sachs disease. I had asked our Hospice social worker for ideas on planning a meaningful memorial service for our son, and she brought me some information from your website. I have since spent the past hour reading the wealth of information on your site. I even emailed the National Tay Sachs and Allied Diseases Association and recommended that they link your site to theirs. It is such a help in so many ways. As I said, right now I am focused on funeral planning, and I like all the poetry and song suggestions I found here. Thanks for making this special information available and for helping parents through the most difficult time in their lives.
Bonnie
I cannot express my gratitude. My son, Chase, died last week. He was barely one month old. We are still waiting for the autopsy report. Without the support of your website, newsletter, and books, I don’t think we could have survived this week. I know it is a long road, but you do make a difference.
Patty Klein, Mother of Beloved Chase Andrew
Our sympathy to the families of these precious children
Jasmine Aguayo |
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