Tears Held Gently In Bouquets Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Walking towards me with a bouquet of flowers, tears hanging from her eyes, a sadness emanating from her soul.
How I wish I could reach out, hug her, tell her I'm alright, that I still love her; but the silence of death lies between us.
Carefully making her way, making sure not to step on any other's grave, coming upon mine, kneeling, saying a prayer for me as she places her bouquet in the little holder.
Eyes totally misted over, everything's a little blurry; cleaning off my headstone, touching it so gently as if I am a part of it and she doesn't want to hurt me.
Wanting to tear away the blanket of silence and let her know I'm here, near her.
As she rearranges the flowers, Mom talks to me, I wish I could answer and put her heart to rest.
She's suffered so much already.
Softly, I brush her hair back with a gentle breeze so I can see her better.
I touch her heart with the many tears she holds there and talk to her.
Death does not lessen my love for you, Mom.
I try in many small ways to let you know I'm thinking of you, asking God to put certain people in your life to help you, knowing you recognize them soul to soul.
Only the good, kind-hearted, caring people will do - the one's I'm sure you can recognize some small part of myself in.
I hope Mom, that you treasure these people as I do, it's the only way now for me to show my continuing love and the appreciation I feel even now beyond the grave for your kindness, love and caring while I lived with you.
I wish Mom, that you could hear me, I love you Mom - I always will.
Watching Mom walk away, I wish somehow she could hear me.
Until next time, Mom, I turn and flutter back to heaven where our true joy will some day, again, be one.