Laura by Mary E Kurland (10/7/04)

I found this poem in a pamphlet from the annual memorial mass for the deceased children and grandchildren that we attended last May. Tonight I found the pamphlet and re-read it. I want to share the poem that Mrs. Kurland wrote for her Laura because she captures feelings that every parent who has lost a child experiences.

Since Heaven has become your home,
I sometimes feel I'm so alone.

And though we now are far apart
you hold a big piece of my heart.

I never knew how much I'd grieve,
when it was time for you to leave.

Or just how much my heart would ache,
from that one fragment you would take.

God lets my tender hole remain,
to remind me we will meet again.

And one day all my pain will cease,
when he restores the missing piece.

God will turn to joy, my every tear
and make all things very clear.

When we meet again on Reunion Day.

Faith

DEATH

A wonderful explanation

A sick man turned to his doctor as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, "Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side."

Very quietly, the doctor said, "I don't know."

"You don't know? You're, a Christian man, and you don't know what's on the other side?"

The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness. Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice my dog? He's never been in this room before. He didn't know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here. When the door opened, he sprang in without fear. I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one thing...

I know my Master is there and that is enough."

We miss you, Laura

Dear family, friends, & my earth angels,

It has been 15 months since Laura died. Some people say that after the one-year mark, things get easier. Believe me, they do NOT. We are able to go about our daily routine, take care of the things we need to, go to work, and look like we are doing quite well. However, the pain is as deep and hurtful as it was on November 8, 2008.

There are times that we can put our pain aside and join you for dinner or just hang and laugh with you. And sometimes, even a glimpse of hope sneaks in and the future doesn't look so dim (especially when we spend time with David, Danielle, Melissa, Shawn, and Kyla). Other times, it is a struggle to get up and going. It is still very necessary for me to cry often.

It means so much to us to know that Laura will not be forgotten. We want you to talk about her, we need to hear her name mentioned, we want you to share your memories with us. Please do not be afraid to do so. Please do not worry about making us cry. Our sadness is always on the surface. Allowing us to talk and cry is giving us the best gift you can give.

Fred and I will never be the same people we were before Laura died. Life looks so different to us now. We don't expect you to understand what it feels like losing a daughter and hope that you never find out. Grief is a vicious, demanding, necessary process that we have to go through.

We don't expect advice or for you to make things better for us. We do ask that you be wiling to continue to listen when we need to talk about Laura.

We are forever grateful for your love, support, and friendship.