When a parent loses a child certain days unleash new waves of grief. For the first few years birthdays are especially difficult, but often it gets easier as the years go by. This poem was written about three years after our son died when the grief was still raw. It reveals the broken heart of a mother.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAM
Happy Birthday, my son,
Of what age are you now?
At twelve you were taken,
Almost three years ago
That makes you ‘bout fifteen
Or has God made you old?
***
How do you look,
His glory clothes now you wear,
Are there whiskers on your face,
Do you sniffle and sneeze?
Have you grown many inches
In stature do you stand tall?
***
Do you remember your mom,
Her loving embrace to feel?
Does He tell you of my tears,
Or does His joy blinding you
Now forget all earthly woes?
***
When I get there, will glory
Cover the great loss I bear,
Or does pain of memory
Cling to eternities robe
Some spot time cannot remove?
***
How can I send gifts to you,
My son, how shall I wrap it.
Now that you have everything,
Need you still tokens of love?
Who will blow out your candles,
May I make your birthday wish?
***
Do angels wrestle with you,
Faking weak to show you strong
You once loved to pin me down
Counting to ten, marking air
So the world would then know,
For one brief moment, your strength
Has now overcome your mom

December 18, 2007 at 4:20 pm
I love the last stanza of this poem. It is so deep, so poignant, so true. Patty, this is beautiful. Thanks for sharing it
Bonnie
December 18, 2007 at 6:35 pm
Thanks, Bonnie. Again you bring such encouragement.
December 29, 2007 at 12:05 am
Dear Patty,
Thank you for posting such a personal and loving poem about your son. I wish we could have known him. I so enjoy reading your “heart thoughts”.
Thank you again for making your writings available for all of us to enjoy and receive encouragement from.
Blessings abundant,
Cindy Carmack
June 23, 2008 at 2:16 pm
How utterly moving. My mind wanted to skip lines to keep my emotions in check. Funny how we send out our rational armor-bearer to take the hardest blows which only our emotions were meant to take.
I recently lost a friend, an elderly woman who had never married, had no family. I could rehearse it here, but it would be better it you would read it “Orange” on my blog.
God has made you a person others listen to because of your suffering.