A Poem For Barry

This poem was in the guest book I picked out for the funeral. I really do like it, so I wanted to share it with you all. It was read at his funeral, and I also read it to all the people in my Grief Works group when I did my talk about Barry. I had lost the guest book, and just found it over the weekend when I unpacked a box. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief when I saw that little white cardboard box that it was enclosed in.

When I Must Leave You

When I must leave you

For a little while

Please do not grieve

And shed wild tears

And hug your sorrow to you

Through the years,

But start out bravely

With a gallant smile;

And for my sake

And in my name

Live on and do

All things the same,

Feed not your loneliness

On empty days,

But fill each waking hour

In useful ways,

Reach out your hand

In comfort and in cheer

And I in turn will comfort you

And hold you near;

And never, never

Be afraid to die,

For I am waiting for you in the sky!

Helen Steiner Rice

I found it incredibly amazing that whenever I need him, hes always there. I find little glimpses of him when I am missing him, or even when I least expect it, completely unaware that I need him, and then he just shows up.

When I was the funeral home, I didnt even put two and two together, but re-reading this poem, it is exactly what Barry would say to me. He would tell me to go on, do things and make something of myself, rather than sitting around and be mopey and lonely. He would say "get off your ass Joanna! Go clean my house!", or something along those lines. He doesnt, and wouldnt want me to sit around and dwell on what isnt is anymore. Barry would insist I get on with my life, and be there for the kids and myself, and he would want us to live and be happy.

Barry speaks to me in little ways at the most random times. This also happened when I found two letters he wrote me. The last letter he wrote me was actually written just over two years ago, January 2008, after he gave me my locket. Perhaps I will share that sometime. I dont know why, but I truly believe that he is still here with us, and he speaks to me when he knows I need encouragement. I cant hear his voice, but in the words he wrote with his own hand, or a poem I picked out for him, I can hear him in my head encouraging me, talking to me, telling me how proud he is of me, and how much he loves me.

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