This poem may have been written by my precious Vic….
She used to worry so about me surviving her death. Our domestic helper has worked for me for the past 18 years. Bettie is part of the family. Over the years we have shared tears for our children…
Bettie went on her annual leave on the 18th of December 2012. She tells me that Vic asked her to keep an eye on me, after her passing, as she would not see Bettie again…
Vic knew she was dying. I knew she was dying. I prayed for her to die! Why is it so hard now. I want to scream my anger and pain…I want to lash out at someone and just punch them…
Bettie returned just in time for Vic’s memorial service.
| My Mom is a Survivor My mom is a survivor, or so I’ve heard it said. But I can hear her crying when all others are in bed. I watch her lay awake at night. and go to hold her hand. She doesn’t know I’m with her to help her understand. But like the sands upon a beach that never wash away… I watch over my surviving mom who thinks of me each day. She wears a smile for others, a smile of disguise. But through Heaven’s open door, I see tears flowing from her eyes. My mom tries to cope with my death, to keep my memory alive. But anyone who knows her knows it’s her way to survive. As I watch over my surviving mom through Heaven’s open door… I try to tell her that Angel protect me forevermore. I know that doesn’t help her, or ease the burdens she bears. So if you get a chance, call to her And show her that you care. For no matter what she feels, my surviving mom has a broken heart that time won’t ever heal. ~K. D’Ormeaux |
Vic's Final Journey 