Words from the Heart

Photo Credit: By Marcusmoseley (Own work)  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons Our guest blogger is Suzie Kolber, writes for a much needed resource - ObituariesHelp.org .   The following are some thoughts about how to express words of condolence. How to Express Condolences to Someone You Love  It is customary to send condolences to the bereaved when someone dies, but sending condolences to someone you love, someone you’re extremely close to can be a difficult task. When sending condolences to a person or family that you didn’t know so well, the emotional impact is not so intens e; you are sad for them, but not overwhelmingly so. But if it’s a close family or friend to whom you’re expressing your sympathies, the feelings are much stronger. It can be quite difficult to sit down and write that heartfelt expression without being overcome with emotions yourself. The following article mentions some things to keep in mind when expressing condolences to close fam...

Angel of Grief (Photo credit: eklektik2xs ) I have spent the last two days trying to wrap my head around the horrific tragedy that took place, not more than 200 miles from our home.  As a writer, I felt called to write something...but nothing came. As a mother and grandmother, I felt called to say something...but nothing came.  As a seminarian, I felt called to do something...and, when the moment came, I did what felt best. I hugged those closest to me; I told those, who I could not hug, that they were loved; and I sat down to share this on my blog. Someone said to me, yesterday, that the world has become crazier.  I responded, after a brief pause with, "No it hasn't, we just hear about the craziness quicker and more often, now.  The world has always been this crazy."  Think about it...50 years ago, we had to wait at least 24 hours to hear about a major event happening in the US, it took even longer if the event was somewhere overseas.  Today, not onl...

Poetry is a form of writing that is best heard from the poet's own voice.  By hearing what a poet says and how he/she says it, we are able to grasp the essence of the poem. This week, I taught myself how to create audio recordings of my poems.  I am so excited, because now I can actually share them with my family and friends as if I were sitting with them.  What fun! In introducing my first recording, it seems appropriate to begin with The Oak and the Maple.  This is a love poem of sorts, speaking of how some people come into our lives for a short time, but leave their mark on our souls forever. Listen to The Oak and the Maple here.   And, for those who wish to read along --   THE OAK AND THE MAPLE   Once upon a time, two trees grew side-by-side in the forest. On one, there grew a sturdy oak leaf and on the other a delicate maple.   As spring warmed to Summer, they grew stretching themselves out to meet the o...

Many subjects are taboo, even though commonsense tells us that talking about them should help us to cope. As a writer, educator and mother, I believe we must speak about the unspeakable for it is by sharing our pain and sorrow that we heal.   Today, I have the honor of sharing the thoughts and advice of Madeline Sharples, a talented poet and memoirist who began writing as a means to find comfort and understanding after the diagnosis of her eldest son’s bipolar disorder. Later, in 1999 after his death, she turned once again writing as a means of healing and comfort. Her book, Leaving the Light On is a touching memoir of Madeline’s journey with Paul. She candidly and honestly shares the strain of living with mental illness, as well as the grief and guilt experienced by survivors of suicide. Leaving the Light On is a testament to healing after the death of a child as well as the strength it takes to move forward. I remember seeing the back of my mother’s head in the ...

Having been brought up Roman Catholic, I can never travel Life's Path on October 31 and November 1 without thinking of all my loved ones who have moved ahead on the Path and entered the next existence. This past year, I have created my own Memorial Altar...a kind of "Day of the Dead" memorial on which I have pictures of my loved ones, some of my brother's ashes and a candle burning. Each time I pass, I pray...prayers of thanksgiving for their being part of my life, prayers for peace of spirit and mind, prayers of love. When I was a child, it was creepy to think of people's spirits hovering close to us after death. As an adult, older and I hope wiser, I take great comfort in this thought. I have felt the presence of my mother and father over the past year during different times when I needed a bit of guidance or when I wished I could share a moment with them. I have felt my brother's spirit lingering at home, finally at peace, with my beloved and I. I ha...

Whether you are five or fifty-five, the death of your mother has a profound affect on you. Whether you had a close, intimate relationship with her or had the relationship from hell, when your mother dies, something in your heart/soul cries out, "No!" ~~~~ Momma loved to shock. Just a few months ago, as we were leaving the nursing home after a visit, she patted the male nurse on the bottom as I wheeled her to the elevator. "Momma!" I cried. She giggled and said, "He didn't even turn around!" I looked back at the nurse and he was simply smiling and shaking his head. As the elevator doors began to close, I said, "Behave, OK?" She gave her most mischievous smile and said, "Not if I can help it!" ~~~~ I must have been about three because Barry was an infant and Momma was pregnant with Timmy. It was one of those summer days that happen every once in a while when the air, the temperature and the weather are perfect. Momma took us for a...

Mom and Dad on a good day Momma was one of those people who was ahead of her time, yet never quite got the recognition she deserved. She was a peace activist, civil rights activist, feminist, LGBT ally and staunch supporter of education for all children, long before women voiced their opinions of such things. She raised me to go through life with my heart and eyes open, giving everyone the same opportunity to share the path. Last night, after a long, long battle with more disease and pain than any human should have to live with, she died. My brothers and I are now orphans of the Universe. Strangely, I am not sad. ~~~~ When I was ten years old, Momma was diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis a debilitating neuro-muscular disease that threatened to take her life. At that time, I was told that I should "prepare for" my mother's death. It was a horrible burden to put on a child. For the next several years, she was in and out of the hospital; each time potentially being her la...

Back a few months ago, I wrote the following: Every human has heroes. These are the beings we look up to, we emulate, we forget are human. I have several heroes. My parents are heroes. They have struggled with poverty, disease, addiction, and a host of other obstacles throughout their lives. Growing up was hard, but hindsight being 20/20, I have come to realized that they gave me so much! It is through my mother that I came to know and love writing, art, theater, music. Four generations: Me, my daughter, granddaughter and my Mom It is through my father that I learned to create something from nothing. My Dad Both my Mom and Dad helped me see that no matter how little I had, there was always enough to share with others who were worse off than myself. I decided to revisit this after my Dad died yesterday. In the short span of 24 hours, I have come to hear from so many other people who saw my Dad as a hero. Doctors and nurses who fought to keep him alive...siblings, children, grandchi...

As a child, the first thing you noticed were the thick, black curls and the sparkling green eyes. My mother called him her "wild Irish rover" because he never stayed in one place for long. It wasn't until he was nearly an adult that the diagnosis of AD/HD was made. Unfortunately, by that point, his life had become a dark, lonely hole from which he could not escape. Through the years, when news of Timmy was less than hopeful, I would often call to mind the image of him as a young, laughing baby of three. There was a picture of him and I and my other brother at the beach. I am struggling to maintain my "cheese" while trying to keep him corraled for the picture. His face is lit with a smile that melted hearts. Last month, after battling lung and heart disease, my brother Timmy, my mother's wild Irish rover, died of a massive coronary at the age of 51. At his funeral, several people mentioned that he looked at peace. I had to agree. The agony of a life battling ...