Do not judge the bereaved mother.
She comes in many forms.
She is breathing, but she is dying.
She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.
She smiles, but her heart sobs.
She walks, she talks, she cooks,
she cleans, she works, she IS
but she IS NOT all at once.
She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.
A child that loses a parent is an orphan.
A husband that loses his wife is a widower.
A wife who loses her husband is a widow.
However, there is no word for a parent that loses a child.
For there is no word to describe such pain.
–Author Unknown
I’m crying for you again, Melissa… and praying for you lots today.
Thanks for the beautiful blogs about your Advent celebrations… I intend to write to you soon and tell you about how much we enjoyed the info and sermon excerpts you shared.
(((hug)))
I love so much of this poem. Although, I don’t believe that any of the names that our culture calls people, e.g. orphan, can’t even begin to describe the pain. I guess they are more of identification terms. Death is so grievous, there’s no good way to describe the pain. The power of death is why Jesus came! I, too, long for the day when we will feel the full joy of His conquest.
*hugs*
Praying and grieving with you.