Inspirations and Memorials

The Path
I am walking a path; it is a path no woman should ever have to follow. Yet, it is a path so many have taken, even my own mother. It's a path we do not choose, but one we unhappily share. It is a path of sorrow with footsteps so heavy they sound of thunder.

I am walking a path and its raining. I haven't been walking long, but the rain never seems to stop. The skies are crying for all of us because it seems as though we have no more tears to shed. But, my tears, like the rain, continue to fall.

I am walking a path; a path so similar yet still so different from those who have walked before me. Some days, I can see a light, a break in the clouds maybe; its faint, but a light all the same. Other days, all I can see is the rain, nothing on the horizon but the gloom, it surrounds me. Still, every day, there is a single, beautiful butterfly; she follows me faithfully.

I am walking a path; a path sometimes so difficult that I can't go on and must stop. As faithful as ever, the butterfly stops with me. She sits on my shoulder, gently fluttering her beautiful wings and patiently waiting for me to regain my strength. She remains by my side, hardly moving, a quiet source of comfort until I am ready to move forward again. She knows; some how, some way she understands.

I am walking a path and it seems like forever. There's no doubt I have changed; a little older, a little wiser as they say. But my faithful little butterfly has remained the same. She has been with me from the very first step I took on this path; always there for me, even when I was so sure I couldn't continue. She has been very loyal, unerringly so. Could it it possible? Is it her?

I am walking a path; a path I can never leave, moving forward, yes, but constantly looking back. It is a path I have come to accept but still hate; a path, although difficult, I know with time will get easier. It's a path that will remain for forever in my future and always be an enormous part of my present and past. But will my constant companion, my beautiful source of comfort stay with me? I honestly hope so, but only time will tell. I do know one thing for journey, my path will never change. I will always walk this path, the path of a woman who has lost a child.

--Mary A Thompson
For Addie 10/6/10

I long to feel the soft weight of you to welcome you home, with kisses on silky round cheeks. Instead my arms ache with the weight of your absence, the empty places that were meant for you to grow into. My love for you will last an eternity. My hopes and dreams now carried on the fragile wings of each butterfly passing, compelling me to pause, to savor each moment, each flutter in my heart, your wings.
--Kimberly de Montbrun

Thank you Carly, these pictures are just beautiful!

     When you lose a child, your life doesn't just change.  You're shattered on the inside, blown to bits, your heart broken.  It takes a long time to come back together again.  I'm not looking for your pity.  It's better for me to talk than to keep everything all inside.  I don't want you to think I'm selfish, but can't you see how much I'm hurting?  Sometimes I take out my baby's things...smell them, caress them, hug and kiss them and rock them until the tears stop falling.  Please don't turn a blind eye to me.  If you think its too painful for you, multiply that by infinity and you might have a vague idea of how much pain I am in.  I did not ask for this to happen.  I do ask for your love and support.  If you can't think of anything to say, then just listen to me.  Let me borrow your shoulder.  Surely you are stronger than I am, and you can help me by simply being there.

"I see them.  They ride on the wings of butterflies."  ---Carly M. Dudley

Addison Breann Thompson
Born and Passed 8/27/2010

A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam and, for a brief moment, it's glory and beauty belong in this world,but then it flies on again, and although we wish it could have stayed, we are so thankful to have seen it at all.

‎"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than 10 thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love."
---Washington Irving

How very softly
you tiptoed into my world.
Almost silently;
Only a moment you stayed.
But what an imprint
Your footprints have left
On our hearts.
---Unknown Author

These are my footprints, so perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints never touched the ground at all.
Not one tiny footprint, for now I have wings.
These tiny footprints were meant for other things.
You will hear my tiny footprints in the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears of joy and not from pain.
You will see my tiny footprints in each butterflies' lazy dance.
I'll let you know I'm with you if you just given me the chance.
You will see my tiny footprints in the rustle of the leaves.
will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that
Most of all these tiny footprints are found on Mommy and
Daddy's hearts.
Cause even though I'm gone now, we'll never truly part.
--Author Unknown

My grief is like a river, I have to let it flow,
But I myself determine, just where the banks will go.
Some days the current takes me in waves of guilt and pain
But there are always quiet pools where I can rest again.
I crash on rocks of anger, my faith seems faint indeed
But there are other swimmers who know just what I need.
And loving hands to hold me when the waters are too swift
And someone kind to listen when I just seem to drift.
Grief's river is a process of relinquishing the past
By swimming in Hope's channels I'll reach the shore at last.
~Cynthia G. Kelley~

‎"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift."
--Elizabeth Edwards

Thank you to Missy, Chai's momma for doing these pictures for me!

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