For Jill, Written by April Muir, Jill's Sister

Of all the things that are left behind

When a person leaves this world,

The one to treasure above all else

I miss you more than you’ll ever know
The world is not the same without you here
Sadness washes over me without a moments notice
Your presence can be so clear

I wish I could me that Mom again
The one who answered every call

AS WE LIGHT THESE FOUR CANDLES IN HONOR OF YOU,

WE LIGHT ONE FOR OUR GRIEF, ONE FOR OUR COURAGE,

ONE FOR OUR MEMORIES AND ONE FOR OUR LOVE.


THIS CANDLE REPRESENTS OUR GRIEF. THE PAIN OF

LOSING YOU IS INTENSE. IT REMINDS US OF THE DEPTH

The pain of death is not with those who have passed on.
It lives in the hearts of those who remain behind.

An unbearable ache that grows with each empty day.
Days without our children; comforting them, holding them, drying their tears and sharing their laughter.

Our children have passed into a place of calmness, comfort and peace

This thing, this blackness we call grief,
menacing as the dark storm cloud
that moves in silent threat,
Never knowing at what moment
It will strike and with what intensity.

Grief is no respecter of status or person,

Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn

It has been said that the more deeply we loved,
The more deeply we grieve
My love cannot be measured
In the ways I show my grief

There is no “formula” for grieving
No pattern to which I must adhere

I wanted so much more for you, my sweet little baby.

I wanted to change your diapers, not my life.

I wanted to nurse you, not my grief.

I wanted to dress you up, not bury you down.

I am here among friends, smiling at their humor
And making plans for tomorrow.
But there is another person, lying curled in the corner,
Crying out in unbelievable pain.

If Roses grow in Heaven, Lord
Please pick a bunch for me,
Place them in my daughter’s arms
And tell her they’re from me,
Tell her I love and miss her,

I woke up next to
Grief today,
his bony arm stretched
round my waist like he owned me.

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart,
The secret anniversaries of the heart.