I met Sandy Smyth at the IEATA (International Expressive Arts Therapy Association) conference this past August. Sandy wrote a book, JOURNEY to WHOLENESS through the Creative Arts; POEMS. I found the following poem within,
THE DEATH OF MOTHER'S HUSBAND
In the waterfall she hears his laughter; In the bluest sky she sees
The sparkle of his caring eyes.
She remembers him as tall, lean,
Calm and strong,
Handsome, kind, humor keen.
He was a farm-bred boy,
A Navy man with a Purple Heart,
Loving God, of modest means.
His family, pets and friends
Meant most to him.
But he most adored his second wife.
He cared for her as if she were
Made of porcelain and silk;
Yet, he coudn't break her as he held her
And hugged her warm and tight.
Their life was like the cream of milk;
Their love, like morning light.
Then, dementia slowly stole him from her;
Stole the sparkle and laughter of their years;
Left him silent with a vacant stare.
As she became the one to care,
She turned from silk to cotton,
Porcelain to stone.
Her loss was almost more
Than she could bear.
In a nursing home,
He finally turned to skin and bone
And died, alone, but not forgotten;
For she was there in heart, in mind and tears.
His journey home to Bliss was bright
And swift as shooting stars.
In the photographs, music and the wine,
She keeps their precious times alive;
The memory of one so dear loving her,
Is her heaven here.
Though feeling left behind,
She sometimes feels, in a gentle breeze,
The blessings of his kiss.
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