Tears – I Hear Each Tear- hear(t)ears -Chris Ritchey

May 26, 2011 at 6:36 pm 1 comment

A woodland glade greens with the spring rains, no one ventures close, the path is heavily pregnant from the coupling of the already sodden earth and watery sky , the path to the clearing will need days of sunshine to birth the way – this is a special place- a place of great love- one that is secret to only those that know – a place where love does not forget nor is forgotten.

And yet, through the veil of watery mists can be seen, as eyes, through their own veil of tears, seach the woodland landscape -a spark-

a glimmer of gold, a splash of sunshine, a shock of red, a greeting of purple reaches through the grey dampness as if some lone rainbow comes to kiss the earth.

I don’t have to walk the woodland path where deer graze in the evening, wild turkeys flock, squirrels play noisly to the mournful song of the Morning Dove as birds are building nests for new life, to know what is the cause of my rainbow.

A promise kept and renewed with each spring – and love that continues vibrant , strong and on the other side of grief.

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2009/12/18/the-chris-miss-tree/

A small tree fights for its place in the woodland reaching to the canopy of green above and beneath its own branches- a small plaque – given by another mother marks the spot where love is focused


“Missed beyond all grief- loved beyond all tears”

I am not alone in the shedding of my tears, there are others of this sisterhood. One is my friend Jayne, who lost her daughter. Jayne wrote on her face book page the following:

I Hear Each Tear
My mom doesn’t know I’m watching her, but I’m watching her just the same. And I hear each tear fall on her face at the mention of my name.

She says it sounds like music to her ears and can be heard over a crowd. Oh, I hear each tear fall on her face,when my name is said aloud.

I watch her stumble through each day as she wishes the day would end. And I hear each tear fall on her face as she talks of me with her friends

But there are few who truly understand Oh this I’ve heard her proclam, and I hear each tear fall on her face will my mom ever be the same?

I know that her smile can light up a sky , but I don’t see her smile today . Oh, but I hear each tear fall on her face, her blue skies have turned gray.

Oh I send to her my warmest hug with the rays of the morning sun, then I won’t hear a tear fall on her face, for I shall erase them one by one.

Yes, my mom doesn’t know I’m watching her, but I’m watching her just the same and if I hear a tear fall on her face I’ll just softly mention her name.
By: Jayne Bartish-Kacik

Photo appears with permission of Virginia Mak

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Entry filed under: Chris Ritchey, death, grief, journey, Love, men of substance, Mothers. Tags: , , , .

Fleet Admiral Ernest J. King – Remembering YOU The Memory of Memorial- Eric Barnes- The Valiant

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Lisa  |  May 27, 2011 at 9:00 pm

    An absolutely beautiful post.
    I wish that nobody ever had to experience the loss of a child.

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