Skip to main content

A Poem to Share

I did not write this poem.  It was shared with me about a year ago and I love it because it is very TRUE. Don't forget: you can still enter the giveaway for my book.  What is a question you have always wanted to ask a grieving parent? No question is too off the wall! Follow this link to enter the giveaway.  Contest ends June 1. 



What People Give You

by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno

Long-faced irises. Mums.
Pink roses and white roses
and giant sunflowers,
and hundreds of daisies.

Fruit baskets with muscular pears,
and water crackers and tiny jams
and the steady march of casseroles.
And money,
people give money these days.

Cards, of course:
the Madonna, wise
and sad just for you,
Chinese cherry blossoms,
sunsets and moonscapes,
and dragonflies for transcendence.

People stand by your sink
and offer up their pain:
Did you know I lost a baby once,
or My eldest son was killed,
or My mother died two months ago.

People are good.

They file into your cartoon house until it bows at the seams;
they give you every
blessed
thing,
everything,
except your daughter back.

"What People Give You" by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno, from Slamming Open the Door. © Alice James Books, 2009.

Popular posts from this blog

To everything there is a season

It's been a while since I used the blog to share my thoughts. What started as some random musings turned into much more than a Facebook post. I started writing this over a week ago but it's taken a minute to actually hit the publish button. Thanks for your patience. Welcome back.   It has been a week (or two) . One of those weeks where everything happens all at once. A week where things need to happen in a particular order or everything‘s going to go to shit. A week where you just seem to go from one thing to the next thing and you’ll figure out what’s going to happen next as it goes along. A week full of work and family and rest and sleeplessness and it never feels like there’s enough time for anything. But somehow it all works out.   A plaque on the library walk in NYC My week started with a trip for work to NYC. It coincided with my birthday. Because of that, I had all kinds of feelings all week about life in general. The week ended with a trip to Florida that, unfortun...

The Edge of Seventeen

It's that time of year when the blog musings center on my grief journey. Every year, it seems like we are busy with end-of-the-year school activities and the start of summer, planning vacations, and then (kablam)...it's almost July 9.  Grief is funny. Grief is weird. I remember very early after Charlotte died, I watched the movie Rabbit Hole.  There's an amazingly poignant scene where Nicole Kidman's character is talking with another woman who lost a child over 10 years before (played by Dianne Wiest). She talks about grief being like a brick in your pocket. It never goes away. Sometimes you can even forget it's there. But it comes back and makes its presence known from time to time. And (she says) "it's what you have of them."    I probably did not fully realize then what a powerful and true analogy that is. As time goes on, our grief changes. Yet, it is always there on the edge of things. It sits in that pocket and sometimes makes itself known.  This...

Half a Century - Wow!

Here it is! My 50th year.  How do you mark a half-century on the planet?  First, I'm astounded by the many other things that are marking 50 years in our culture:  The movies  Jaws and Monty Python and the Holy Grail The Rocky Horror Picture Show Bohemian Rhapsody Saturday Night Live Space Mountain at Walt Disney World Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies Reaching this milestone also had me thinking about the many human milestones we mark. Most of these happen in our childhood, but there are some that we reach even in adulthood.  I've been walking and talking for 49 years I've been swimming for 47 years (yes, I'm a Florida baby!) ...a sister for 47 years ....reading for 46 years ....riding a bike for 45 years ....sewing a basic hem or a button for 42 years (thanks, Grandma Libby) ...playing the piano for 40 years ...touch typing for 37 years. And that started on a typewriter! ... working (collecting a real paycheck and not just babysitting or odd jobs) for 36 years...