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Some said time would heal the wounds of the past.

Some said time would heal the wounds of the past,

With distant memories blurring the facts.

And yet all around us people still judged, did they seriously believe

We’d again have it so good, and forget that a loved one had died.

 

Left alone with our thoughts, a different story was told, if only they knew of the truth.

We hadn’t allowed the scars to fade, we just searched for a way to get through.

So despite our appearance of courage and strength, it was all just a total charade,

However it looked and whatever was said, each day was depressingly hard.

 

We fight all the demons, still weighed down by our guilt,

When a song on the radio, or film on TV can fool us that he’s with us still.

But there’s nothing we say, and nothing we do, can ever allay our worst fear.

We have to accept the god’s honest truth, he simply is no longer here.

 

Questions are posed each and every day, as we search for a reason why.

But it never comes and it never will, so why did he have to die?

And to those who will say, only the good ones die young, you are telling the most terrible lie.

For you’ve not experienced the things that we have, if you had you would never ask why.  

 

We still endure our personal nightmares in life, with each waking hour filled with pain,

After that fateful day, whatever they think, nothing is ever the same.

We still strive to cover up the irreplaceable loss of a young life that simply slipped by,

And honestly all these years later, it still brings a tear to our eye.

 

So with false smiles we faced all our woes, and outwardly had to let go

For in those bygone times public grief was a crime, and to mask it the pain must not show,

But those people who cared, are still here by our side, and to them there was no need to hide

So with some family, not all, and friends in support, we can now just about scrape on by….

 

◄ To Richard

Under Our Blue Umbrella ►

Comments

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Paul Waring

Wed 10th May 2017 08:09

A poignant account of the pain of ongoing grief John.

Paul

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