the hardest part of growing older
is the loss one suffers.
it may be parents, lovers, or friends.
the deep sadness that never really goes away
the missing, the longing,
and the thinking of what could have been.
so many once known and loved
become memories instead of being there with us.
the hardest of all I am sure
is the loss of one’s own child,
the one we put our dreams into,
the one we think will carry on for us
when we are gone.
how does one ever recover from that great loss?
how does one ever smile again
or laugh again or find meaning in life?
we find comfort from our friends
told they are in a better place
but no words help, nothing consoles.
for what has been lost
are the dreams unrealized,
the potential not yet unlocked,
the future cut short,
and yet, we remain to grieve …
and go on …
Deanne Quarrie August 2009
I feel that I died when my child did. She was my light, my everything. She was only 19 and had a beautiful promising life ahead of her when someone took that away. I cannot seem to find the strength to go on. My grief is unconsolable. I long for peace. I continue to ask why. Why was I given this pain to endure? Why would she not have been allowed to live? I don’t know if I can go on without ever seeing her again. Is that possible? I get up every day, get dressed, walk the dog, try to work as best I can, but my life is devoid of joy. My longing to see my beautiful daughter is ever present.
Your poem says it all.