Inspiration

Death is Nothing At All
by Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1913

I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I and you are you;
Whatever we were to each other that we are still.

Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone;
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play. Smile. Think of me. Pray for me.

Let my name be used in your household as it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect,
without the ghost of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was;
there is absolutely unbroken continuity.

What is this death but a negligible accident;
why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
All is well.

The Cemetery
by Sonya Killian

The ground is cold, frozen to the touch.
I sit there with icicles forming from the tears running down my face
because I still love and miss you so much.
I look to the sky and I scream and yell,
I condemn all who know but won't say, to an eternity in Hell.

I look around to the woods:
I swear I see you peeking from around a tree.
I beg to the Lord above, "please let my son come back to me."

In my delusional thoughts, I wait for you to come home.
Am I delusional, or just holding tight
onto a wish for you to return home to me some night?

Sonya Killian, proud mother of Mssr Stephen J. Killian, Jr. USN, 7-14-80 to 5-30-99,
who died under very questionable circumstances and was denied a proper and thorough investigation.
Painfully loved and missed by family and his many, many friends.

"Get back to reality," I hear a little voice say.
But I can't stop hoping that you'll come back to me someday.
I lay my hands on your plaque that's cold and frozen to the touch.
I whisper a few words, I give you a kiss
because I still love and miss you much.