mettre une chose en present à quelqu'un'


As the darkness comes each day I miss you even more.

I gaze upon space, the space where once you were,

I move toward you, then stop and remember.

Just then the well of emptiness, capaciously, yawns.


I climb the stairs each night and as I reach midway up,

I pause on the seventh step, look down into the darkness

and hide my tears in silence for no one can understand,

why it is new for me to face the prospect of  tomorrow.


But then I remembered how I sat near you a few days ago,

stroking small curls upon your head and feeling once again

that you listen to every word and I know my tomorrow will

unfold in the memory of your grace and be filled with an anticipation of the unknown.


And now, it is even more a  poignant bestowal,

it is as if you chose to do this before you left,

as in  the old french phrase: mettre une chose en present à quelqu’un

and you put this special thing in the presence of me.


This special thing was to help me want tomorrow,

to see the light of day, to smile, to look upward and wave.

For you in return, I send you my love that is deep, a love that is strong,

and a love that is true–That is my love for you.


5 thoughts on “mettre une chose en present à quelqu'un'

  1. Frank,
    You write so beautifuly of the throes of grief…the empty space, the moment of pause looking toward the familiar.

    Yes, my friend, the days of emptiness have begun, but they will always be a little less fulfilling with the emptiness being the focus for the present.

    Just please, remember your mother’s desire for tomorrow because she believed that tomorrow always held the promise that today failed to bring…

    Cry the tears, feel the pain, then look to a tomorrow…you know that she would want you to look ahead and not behind…

    Love your thoughts in the form of this poem…you captured the first days of pain so well.

    Thinking of you, daily,
    Your friend,


  2. Well, my friend, the emptiness is there. I hate going to bed at night because I should watch Momma, then the morning comes and I pace uselessly because she isn’t here to take care of…….the house is so quiet with out the oxygen and ventilator on……that quiet triggers the emptiness. Cry oh yes……plan for tomorrow I am trying so hard to do that just a little bit day by day but my head is muddled. I will do that just for her because it was so important to her and I will make it because of you helping me down this voyage.
    thank you Frank


  3. Dear Frank,

    Your poem is beautiful…and sad. I’m pained with you at this loss, but please know, my dear friend, that time is a great healer. Don’t rush to find ways to erase your sorrow, rather experience it, trust it and, when it is time, release it. Only you will know when that time comes.

    Tomorrow’s plan will wait, but please, please live today! Whatever form your life takes today, relish it, cherish it and embrace it! Honor your momma by the way you live, that is the greatest tribute you can offer her.

    Don’t hurry to “get over it”. Your momma’s constant care has been such an important part of your life for so long that it is natural that you feel at a loss as to what to do with your time now. During those times that you really feel lost take time to remember her dreams and hopes for you and your sister. Remember what it was about her that made her “Momma”. And, remember that she is, once again, “Momma” as you once knew her.

    Many blessings to you my dear friend. I’m still praying for your healing and so grateful for your friendship.



  4. Hi Lynda,
    Yes, tomorrow will wait. There are parts of today that become so painful that it is so hard to think. I know in time I will heal, but I wish I had your faith. Shadowlands recently said my Mother was my anchor. I had never thought of it that way–but she is right. Momma would never react like me, but she knew I would be like this and made my sister make sure I am okay. Well, that didn’t make any good. It was just Momma who ever did that for me. I occasionally have those sweet moments when I see her from the past—but even before she passed she was the same way. I wish her voice would break through the fog. I have such a hard time hearing her voice.

    Lynda, thank you for all of your understanding. I think of you often. Frank


  5. My friend and former boss, Beth, once told me that when she lost each of her parents there were times when she couldn’t manage one day at a time…so she managed 5 minutes at a time and that was doable. Beth is one of the strongest, wisest people I know, and that made so much sense to me. Maybe it will to you as well.

    Your mother was your anchor, and she is still your anchor. The fact that she is no longer physically living doesn’t negate who she will always be in your life. She will always remain alive through your memories and through your wonderful photos and writings. It’s not the same, I know. And I’m so sorry for the pain you are feeling. I wish I could give you a hug and tell you it will be okay. You will smile again. You will laugh again. I don’t know when, but it will happen in time. In your time, no one else’s.

    So be well, my friend, 5 minutes at a time if necessary. It’s okay if that’s all you can manage right now.



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