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As my piece mentions it is healthy and helpful to talking about death among the elderly. Or those facing death and I believe also about the loss of a loved one to death. The one study mentioned reported how helpfu it was to write about death m or loss , or while grieving. To write stories you best remember of your son is helpful ....as Dideon said ‘we tell ourselves stories in order to live’. Good advice. Tell your stories to others and in writing to yourself. A record of a good life
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My father died when I was only 6. He had just returned from the war and had started a business with his brother. My step dad was killed in a ditch cave in at work when I was 16. Both left an empty spot in my heart. It wasn't until recently that I finally wrote a rhyme about my dad's passing. What a feeling of relief to finally put into words what I had felt for all those many years. Some of the material for the rhyme came from men that were aboard his navy ship. Some came from a couple old articles from the local paper. But together they painted a wonderful picture I'd never seen before. I would also suggest as "jdiakiw" has, writing is therapeutic. oldbuck
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Well said. However: I have found mourning the dead is far easier if I have not left kind words unsaid.
Here is a rhyme I wrote that expresses what I mean.
Maybe some here have someone they would like to share these thoughts with.
oldbuck
Don’t Write It
On Their Epitaph.
When I was but a little tyke,
A phrase I’d heard grown-ups relate.
“Don’t write it on their epitaph”,
“Don’t spend kind words that late”.
Others passing will seldom notice,
Kind words now spent ‘bout others.
Would have meant so much more,
If shared by friends or brothers.
Why is it hard to find the phrase,
That says the things we aim to say?
Harder still to find a time,
To share kind words amidst the fray.
Today your name has crossed my path,
Reminded me of times gone by.
Times of joy, or fear, or triumph,
Each time we part with but: “Good bye.”
Well I had “time” today, to set a spell.
To stop and pause and gather thoughts.
And now I’ll share what’s on my mind,
How knowing you,
much goodness brought.
We all know folks, nice people too,
The type we all call: “Kind and Just”,
But few we know, are always there,
When good times turn to bitter “rust.
That few that always seem to care,
Have that sense of
“What’s happened there”.
Will always take the time to stop,
To sit and listen, when ya need to share.
Well you know by now, I’m meaning you,
We’ve known each other for
“Oh so long”.
But in those years, I’ve never said:
“Thanks for being so near and strong.”
So I’ll “not” write these here,
kind thoughts,
Upon you tomb or graveside rock.
I’ll write them here for YOU to read,
Each time you have an “elder” block. ‘o)
As you think back to what you’ve done,
Take out this rhyme and read anew.
How much you friendship meant to me,
My care for you, just grew & grew.
Written by oldbuck, April 6th, 2010,
as he thought about
some of the wonderful folks
he’s known through the years
and how seldom we tell them
how much their friendship has meant.