Her lips were purple,
her face a powder white.
I knew my baby sister wasn’t right.
“She’s now in heaven,”
said a mother torn in grief.
“For the first time she knows relief.”
An unfinished pine box,
made by my father’s hands.
Everyone in a daze of funeral plans.
“Goodbye baby sister,
there are few as strong as you.
We won’t forget battles you fought through.”
Holding tight the ribbon,
my balloon dark maroon.
Let it go. Watch the crowd disperse too soon.
Just a memory
in a five year olds mind.
Deepened with my seasons and outlined.
©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef
Photo of Hosanna Joy and Mary Grace.
I never knew my brother/sister. My mom miscarried shortly after me.
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I have seven brothers and sisters.
Miscarriage can be just as hard.
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I honestly cannot imagine having that many people! I was completely solitary growing up. It was like medieval torture, but I made it lol.
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Big families can be hard, but most of the time they are a blessing.
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I think my solitary upbringing is a reason I feel so socially awkward.
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This is beautiful Marry. What a wonderful way to remember your sister.
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Thank you Brittany. ❤
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This actually kind of inspired me for some posts I got to thinking about yesterday. Kind of writing letters to people I’ve lost.
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That’s great! I think writing to it for people we have lost helps with the healing process. Greif lingers for a whole lifetime. But it doesn’t have to rule us.
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Wondering if it should be private posts though. They’re going to be very real.
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I don’t see the point of private posts. If its somthing you dont want to share with the world, it might be best not to post it. But still right it, keeping for yourself.
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I’ve done it because I wanted certain people I could trust to read them. They were testimony posts and I had some young readers who I felt were too young to be reading them.
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Completely up to you John.
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I was just saying lol!
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Oh my gosh… that hit me really hard. Like really hard. I feel like crying.
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The people we grieve are worth every tear. Thank you Trent.
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I know. I felt your grief palpably there, like it was my own.
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First’s are always especially raw. A first loss, a first love. Hosanna passed away when she was 5 months old, and I was 6 years old.
She touched more peoples hearts in those 5 months of life, then I have in all my 33 years.
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I somewhat doubt that last part.
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