Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.142.43.53
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Usually, there are sounds and expressions of grief upon being informed of a passing.  Each family member's passing ignited a sound or brief words that identified the emotion of the moment, unique to each one. 

Case in point:
My mother's death in March of '98. My pager sounded, and at the next exit, I pulled off the freeway and called my office.  When my supervisor said that I should call home right away, I knew that the news was not good.  I phoned home, and my wife informed me of my mother's passing in Chicago.  There was a calming, numbing, and pausing.  Then I quietly uttered my first words, "Mama's gone".  

Case in point:                                                                                             
The death of my oldest sister in '99.  A call came from a younger sister stating that our sister would not survive the head injury she incurred from being hit by a car on a Chicago Street.  She was all but brain dead at the time, and realizing her impending death, words ceased, and I went ballistic.  A 'deep gush of grief and sorrow' overwhelmed me with loud crying, and I could barely breathe.

Case in point:
The death of an older brother in the Spring of 2003.  A call came from St. Louis, informing me of my brother's death.  Very subdued when I got the news, a numbing silence swept over me.  The only words I remember uttering were, "Oh Calvin".

Case in Point:
In December of 2003, a call came informing me that a younger sister in Indiana had passed.  I was 'speechless'. My grief was deep without a word   but a silence of sadness.

Case in point:
Word came in November of 2012 that another sister in Indiana had passed.     I was fortunate enough to have spent some quality time with her earlier in the summer of that year. I was with her as she battled for her life during hospice care.  Although the doctor had given her very little hope, she seemed to be on the winning side when I departed for home.  Four months later, she died. When I received the fateful call of her demise, all that I could utter was, "Huh".  It was a grunt of bewilderment.  It was a grunt that said, "O Lord, I thought she was going to beat that cancer".  I could not speak my grunt, but God read my spirit and understood every word. "Huh".          

040817PoSpCtest, Strand Choice N, Brain Strand(3/21/20)
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required