No Name For This

My dear friend, Laura, wrote this beautiful poem a few years ago. She has included it in her book, available for purchase here. I have been reflecting on it all morning long and thought I would share it.

No Name for This
by Laura Fabrycky
We give name to our particular griefs,
but there is one that we do not even name.
Each grief is a precious pain,
yet we leave one in shadow.
You see,
an orphan awakens to a parentless horizon.
A widow, sleepily reaches for her mate,
and finds an empty pillow.
A widower stares into
the pews at church and sees
pairs, like ducklings, and he is now
a lone drake.
But we have no name for this:
the mother from who death has
snatched her child;
an empty lap.
The father who leans at the doorway
watching the hospice care of his dying son;
parents who stare at headstones that bear
years short and early,
who wonder why they not only bear the joyous life,
but now must tend the memory flame-
we have
no name for this.


Anonymous said…
I woke up this morning thinking of your family, which is surprising only because we've never met. I started reading your blog after seeing the video you did for Jill's House (where a friend of mine volunteers). Anyways, this morning your family came to mind, and I was thinking of a friend of mine who lost her five-year-old daughter to cancer just over a year ago. At the memorial service, my friend shared Ps. 139:16 ("all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be") and how many lives are like long novels, with various twists and turns, but that her daughter's life was as though God wrote one perfect paragraph. Perhaps Waverly's life was like that too, or like a carefully-crafted poem, each word conveying great depth. While I wish that you could have had pages and pages more with your daughter, I know that the weight of her life isn't measured by its length. I don't know if that's encouraging to you, but since you were on my mind, I wanted to reach out.

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