Thursday, May 3, 2012

I read this and it touched a spot. Having lost Jim, and our dogs, and his cat.

I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying, You found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
"It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."

I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today, Your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.

I was with you at my grave today, You tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you, that I'm not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said " it's me."


You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.
It's possible for me, to be so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."
You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew...
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.

The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning
and say "good-night, God bless, I'll see you in the morning."
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.

Be patient, live your journey out...then come home to be with me.

2 comments:

Jack B. Nimble said...

I know where you're at Bette. Only those of us in this "club" of ours can truly understand. You might find some comfort in this piece.


WALK WITHIN YOU
If I be the first of us to die, Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving. There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life, The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey, The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored, The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring, The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing, Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade, Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are the stone, For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are. What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present
So when you walk the woods where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dapple bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
Be still. Close your eyes. Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.

Jack Nimble said...

I so often wonder how you are.