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He taught me about living,
He taught me about dying.
I learned about loving
And I learned about crying.
Father of my heart,
A daughter born of love
Friend and kin of soul
United by pursuits above.
Treasured frinedship
Brought close by perils sore
Eyes dimmed in life saw
in each other so very much more.
Shared enjoyments
Teasing and playfulness endearing
Teaching of love and living
Even after beyond seeing and hearing.
Though sometimes an echo
An empty space so aching
But the xample left behind
Acts as the voice that is beyond speaking.
We miss you Mark,
Warm laugh and warm heart.
Thanks be to our Lord
For the wisdom you did impart.
So give me time,
And give me space.
Strictly for myself
Are the tears upon my face.
But still your influence
Warms my sadness from within
Reminding me of our goal
So that I might see you again.

Swallow your tears,
Swallow your pride
Don't you dare just
Lay down and die.

Face to the day
Face to the truth
Life is worth living
From age unto youth

Open your heart
Open your arms
Share yout the love
Shield them from harm

Give in to the pain
Give in to the loss
And soon you'll be lost
Sea of turmoil to toss

Anne,

How I wish I could share with you the ache in my heart. How there is a gaping hole within me that trembles with tears when the lack of him rises up to overwhelm me. I wish I could tell you of the longing, the pain, the selfish despair. How I miss the very idea of him, and regret the time I was robbed of, the time I could have used to get closer. I cannot tell you how it hurts that I didn't take more chances to share with him, with you, when I still could.

I wish I could share with you the tears that fall, the mournful weeping within my heart. How nothing seems to soothe it, but how it feels so right to embrace the sorrow and allow myself to truly miss him. How can I tell you how I long to cling to you and sob and weep until I can cry no more? How can I find the courage to open the gaping wound within me, to touch your own pain with my own? I don't know if I'm a coward trying to spare myself, or a tender heart tyring to spare you.

All I know is that there are times when it wells up within me, sweeping me with a sense of great loss, of the irreplacable hollow where his love was, of my own love for him spilling out of it to fill me with tears. How do I tell you? I wish I could. I wish there was some way... some way to show you how deep and sharp I feel it, but show you so it doesn't cut you in turn.

For some reason it makes it all the more difficult because I know he'd never wish such misery and sorrow upon anyone. Not me, and most certainly not you. It would pain him severely to know how we ache. To know how often my tears fall for him. But I can't stop myself. I can't hold back the sadness. It rises unbidden in me, tapping a deeper part of myself that I seldom reach. It is visceral, this mourning. It is a force of nature, a touch of God, an inner flood that opens gates to things many do not wish to delve. To listen, to comfort, to touch it, to participate is to feel it themselves, to be swept away and to lose themselves in someone else's pain. I know not why, but it is instinct for them to shy away from it. I do not flinch from it, but I agonize over causing you more pain, to be the source of much anguish due to my own pain. And I would never ever wish that upon you.

How do I get through this without touching your sorrow with mine? I have no answers. I wish I knew how to reach you. For you are my only link to him, save for the memory of him and my son together. I need that link. But how?