For Daddies

This poem is dedicated to Amber's Daddy Mark who has been and continues
to be such a wonderful, supportive and loving husband to Amber's Mommy. 

A Dad's Grief

It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry" and "men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.

It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.

They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"

He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
but "stays strong" for her sake.

It must be very difficult
To start each day anew
And try to be so very brave--
He lost his baby too.

author unknown

MY DAD IS A SURVIVOR

My Dad is a survivor,
Or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear him crying
When all others are in bed.
I watch him lay awake at night
And go to hold his hand.
He doesn't know I'm with him
to help him understand.

But like the sands upon the beach
That never wash away...
I watch over my surviving Dad,
Who thinks of me each day.
He wears a smile for others...
A smile of disguise.
But through heaven's open door
I see tears flowing from his eyes.

My Dad tries to cope with my death
To keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows him
Knows it's his way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving Dad
Through heaven's open door...
I try to tell him
Angels protect me forevermore.

I know that doesn't help him...
Or ease the burden he bears.
So if you get a chance, talk to him...
And show him that you care.
For no matter what he says...
No matter what he feels.
My surviving Dad has a broken heart
That time won't ever heal.

a poem by Kaye Des'Ormeaux

The Awakening

This morning, upon my husband's pillow,
A tear.
Last night I heard no weeping.
I felt no rhythmic shaking.
Yet there it is-
Glistening, silent testimony to pain.

Quickly I reach to blot it,
As if one swift brush
could set the world right again
But something stays my hand-
Stops me to wonder,
"Am I the cause of weeping?"

In my life is much sorrow,
Dreadful longing and emptiness
That even my husband cannot fill.
Sorrow brings sleepless nights in fear
Of other phone calls and ambulances
More longing and emptiness.

My husband shares this loss,
But men don't cry
They nod gravely and tend to details,
Make arrangements and give support
Yet, there it is upon his pillow-
A tear.

Have I given way to grief
And forgotten one who shares?
Have I made no room for his tears
In the flood of mine?
Am I the reason he weeps
Only in the silence of night?

I close my hand
To leave the tear drying there.
No more will I blot out his pain
To tend to mine,
For we must share
In order to live-together.

Marcia F Alig-New Jersey