Dear Mom
I know this is a rough time for you
so I will be as gentle as I can be.


First of all, thank you for so many tears,
particularly those shared with another that you love.
They are a gift to me, a precious tribute to your investment in me.
As you do your mourning, do it at your own pace only.
Don't let anybody suggest that you do your grief work on their timetable.
Do whatever it takes to face directly the reality of what happened,
even though you may need to pause frequently and yearn for my return.
Do this with courage and my blessing.
Know that sometimes inertia is the only movement possible.
Give your best to keeping a balance between remembering me
and renewing your commitments to life.
It's okay with me if you go through minutes, hours
and even days not thinking about me.
I know that you'll never forget.
Loosening me and grabbing hold of a new meaning is a delicate art.
I'm not sure if one comes before the other or not, maybe it's a combination.
Be with people who accept you as you are.
Mention my name out loud and if they don't make a hasty retreat,
they're probably excellent candidates for friendship.


If, by a remote possibility, if you think that there is anything
that you could have done for me and didn't,
I forgive you, as our Creator does.
Resentment does not abide here, only love.


You know how people sometimes ask you how many children you have?
Well, I am still yours and you are still my mother.
Always acknowledge that with tenderness, unless to do so
would fall on insensitive ears or would be painful to you.
I know how you feel inside.
Read, even though your tears anoint the page.
There is an immense library here and I have a card.
In Henri Nowens' "Out of Solitude", he writes,


"The friend who can be silent with us
in a moment of despair and confusion,
who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement,
who can tolerate not healing,
and face with us the reality of our powerlessness,
that is a friend who cares".
Mom, I don't know where you are spiritually now,
but rest assured that our Creator is not gone.
The still small voice you hear in your heart is His voice.
The warmth that sometimes enfolds you is Him.
The tears that tremble just beneath your heartbeat is Him.
He is in you, as I am.
I want you to know that I am okay,
and I have sent you messages to ease your pain.
They come in the form of flowers that bloom out of season,
birds singing, voices and visions, and sometimes
through your friends and even strangers who volunteer as angels.
Stay open, but don't expect the overly dramatic.
You will get what you need and it may be simply an internal peace.
You are not crazy, you have been comforted.
People seek out people bereaved longer than you.
They are tellers of the truth, and if they have done their work
are an inspiration and a beacon of hope
whose pain lessened dramatically with one more wisdom.
And before we close
There are still funny things happening in our world.
It delights me to no end when I hear your spontaneous, uncontrolled laughter.
That too, will come in due time.
Today, I light a candle for you.
Joined with your candles,
let their light shine above the darkness.

Love, Braden

~author unknown to me~

	Please download Java(tm).

Dear Mr. Hallmark,
I am writing to you from heaven, and though it must appear
A rather strange idea, I see everything from here.
I just popped in to visit, your stores to find a card
A card of love for my mother, as this day for her is hard.
There must be some mistake I thought, every card you could imagine
Except I could not find a card, from a child who lives in heaven.
She is still a mother too, no matter where I reside
I had to leave, she understands, but oh the tears she's cried.
I thought that if I wrote you, that you would come to know
That though I live in heaven now, I still love my mother so.
She talks with me, and dreams with me; we still share laughter too,
Memories our way of speaking now, would you see what you could do?
My mother carries me in her heart, her tears she hides from sight.
She writes poems to honor me, sometimes far into the night
She plants flowers in my garden, there my living memory dwells
She writes to other grieving parents, trying to ease their pain as well.
So you see Mr. Hallmark, though I no longer live on earth
I must find a way, to remind her of her wondrous worth
She needs to be honored, and remembered too
Just as the children of earth will do.
Thank you Mr. Hallmark, I know you'll do your best
I have done all I can do; to you I'll leave the rest.
Find a way to tell her, how much she means to me
Until I can do it for myself, when she joins me in eternity.
Peace and Love be with you!!!!!

Braden