Last year I was asked to be a panelist at Winthrop Hospital on Long Island for a seminar titled “Forming A New Identity After Grief.” To commemorate the second “sad-versary” of my husband’s death, I took a line from our wedding song and had it stamped and rolled into a necklace (shown in the picture) and I wrote and read the poem “A Tissue In Your Pocket.”
You try to tame the sobs,
The words you want to tell.
“How could this be happening?”
You cry, you utter, you yell.
They were here and alive.
Everything was just fine.
Now there is only a deep dark hole to fill,
Since they’ve crossed over life’s line.
Can they come back for just a minute?
You forgot to ask them one more thing.
There is a question you need an answer to.
Just one more song they need to sing.
They took the trip without your consent.
You’re now alone, left behind.
The label on the box says, LOST AND FOUND,
Not LOST and NEVER to FIND.
Their memories you keep alive,
Tucked in your beating heart’s locket.
But forever going forward,
You will hold a tissue in your pocket.
Our thanks to Lois Ann Waxman for sharing this poem with Hello Grief. If you’d like to share a poem you’ve written after a loss, email it to firstname.lastname@example.org