Eric Carle's Dragons Dragons & Other Creatures That Never Were.

Special Stories within the books of his belongings!

Mermaid Undersea

Beneath the waters
Green and cool
The mermaids keep
A swimming school.

The oysters trot;
The lobsters prance;
The dolphins come
To join the dance.

But the jellyfish
Who are rather small
Can't seem to learn
The steps at all.

"Marchette Chute"

As I stumbled through that first day back home deciding to organize his belongings; the story above was marked in this book by him.  My desire to seek the truth shall never stop. I shall continue to heal as I speak my peace. You may think I am wrong you may think I am right, this is your choice. This post is my own an interpretation, my opinion of the thoughts the feelings my son had within his soul.
"that only a mother could know"

If you look up the definition of a jellyfish you will find a wealth of factual information, stories, quotes, books, pictures and much more.
This is what I found, this is what smacked me upside the head!
Taken from:
Medusa-Truth he makes an appeal to Maya-Lie."
—Jack London, The Mutiny of the Elsinore

"The profoundest instinct in man is to war against the truth; that is, against the Real. He shuns facts from his infancy. His life is a perpetual evasion. Miracle, chimera and to-morrow keep him alive. He lives on fiction and myth. It is the Lie that makes him free. Animals alone are given the privilege of lifting the veil of Isis; men dare not. The animal, awake, has no fictional escape from the Real because he has no imagination. Man, awake, is compelled to seek a perpetual escape into Hope, Belief, Fable, Art, God, Socialism, Immortality, Alcohol, Love.

My son was not heard, my son would not speak... his decision to journal his life was his choice. Yet that next tomorrow never came.

A poem for my children who are still here.

A Mother's Poem
I found for Katie & Michael

A Mother's Child by Mom

A mother's child is every breath that she takes, walking hand in hand, they are every step that she makes. And as their steps will grow to strides, still a child, in mother's eyes.

Every ache and pain they shall feel, mother will share and with love she will kneel. She will pray to God to take care of her child, to protect and guide them through every mile.

Her child is the very core of her soul, from baby in arms to an adult they will grow. For to a mother, her child will stay, the precious infant she held that day.

(c) 1999 Mom Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you. 

Poems for the People   -  Poems by the People

"The Myth of Getting Over It." Steven Kalas

The following story was shared with me yesterday. I urge you to read this post in it's entirety.  Looking from the outside into a world he does not know. He truly hit the nail on the head!  

[quoted text] When our first child is born, a loud voice says, "Runners, take your marks!" We hear the starting gun and the race begins. It's a race we must win at all cost. We have to win. The competition is called "I'll race you to the grave." I'm currently racing three sons.

I really want to win. Not everyone wins.

I'm soon going on stage to speak before a crowd of parents and loved ones impacted by the death of a child. My address is titled, "The Myth of Getting Over It." It's my attempt to answer the driving questions of grieving parents: When will I get over this? How do I get over this? You don't get over it. Getting over it is an inappropriate goal, an unreasonable hope. The loss of a child changes you. It changes your marriage. It changes the way birds sing. It changes the way the sun rises and sets. You are forever different. You don't want to get over it. Don't act surprised. As awful a burden as grief is, you know intuitively that it matters, that it is profoundly important to be grieving. Your grief plays a crucial part in staying connected to your child's life. To give up your grief would mean losing your child yet again.

If I had the power to take your grief away, you'd fight me to keep it. Your grief is awful, but it is also holy, and somewhere inside you, you know that. The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it. Profound grief is like being in a stage play wherein suddenly the stagehands push a huge grand piano into the middle of the set. The piano paralyzes the play. It dominates the stage. No matter where you move it impedes your sight lines, your ability to interact with the other players. You keep banging into it, surprised each time that it's still there. It takes all your concentration to work around it, this at a time when you have little ability or desire to concentrate on anything.  

The piano changes everything. The play must be rewritten around it. But over time the piano is pushed to stage left. Then to upper stage left. You are the playwright, and slowly, surely, you begin to find the impetus and wherewithal to stop reacting to the intrusive piano. Instead, you engage it. Instead of writing every scene around the piano, you begin to write the piano into each scene, into the story. You learn to play that piano. You're surprised to find that you want to play it, that it's meaningful, even peaceful to play it.

Written by a man, his name Steven Kalas, not a bereaved parent, which is amazing in itself. Steven C. Kalas, M.Th. Born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona, Steven graduated from Northern Arizona University with a B.S. in Psychology and earned his Masters in Theology at Southern Methodist University.

Blog Post for May 17, 2010

Loosing a child is devastating and living with this loss at sometimes unbearable. Life’s took a turn and as my son; despite his ongoing efforts to get away from this disease of alcohol & drug addiction died making just one bad choice. Many journals he left, many stories he told. Over Two and a half years after the fact, certain circumstances change, this blog will continue. This disease of drug addiction and alcoholism sees no color, no gender, no age, nor income bracket; it brings its death to those we love. It is a simple matter perhaps, but dwells in our back yards. These are "The Children of our Future" – in my words enough said for today