Please See Me Through My Tears
You asked, “How are you doing?”
As I told you, tears came to my eyes . . .
And you looked away and quickly
began to talk again.
All the attention you had given me drained away.
“How am I doing?” . . .
I do better when people listen,
though I may shed a tear or two.
These feelings are indescribable.
If you’ve never felt them you cannot fully understand.
Yet I need you.
When you look away,
when I’m ignored,
I am again alone with them.
Your attention means more than you can ever know.
Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know!
They’re nature’s way of helping me to heal . . .
They relieve some of the stress of sadness.
I know you fear that asking
how I’m doing brings me sadness . . .
but it doesn’t work that way.
The memory of my loved one’s absence is with me, only a thought away.
My tears make my loss more visible to you,
but you did not cause this sadness. It was already there.
When I cry, could it be that you feel helpless,
not knowing what to do?
You are not helpless,
and you don’t need to do a thing but be here for me.
When I feel your permission to allow my tears to flow,
you’ve helped me.
You need not speak. Your silence is all I need.
Be patient . . . do not fear.
Listening with your heart to “how am I doing”
validates what I’m going through,
for when the tears can freely come I feel lighter.
Talking to you releases
what I’ve been wanting to say aloud,
clearing space for a touch of joy in my life.
I’ll cry for a minute or two . . . then I’ll wipe my eyes,
and sometimes you’ll even find I’m laughing in a while.
When I hold back my tears, my throat grows tight,
my chest aches, my stomach knots . . .
because I’m trying to protect you from my tears.
Then we both hurt . . .
me, because my feelings are held inside,
causing pain and a shield against our closeness . . .
and you, because suddenly we’re emotionally distant.
So please, take my hand and see me through my tears . . .
then we can be close again
– Kelly Osmont,
This poem describes exactly how I have felt every day since our son’s death, 10/16/11. He was 33 years old. It is like the elephant in the room. I get asked “how I am doing?”, but no matter what I say, that is the end to it. I know that people are somewhat uncomfortable, because our son’s past was no secret. In time I know that it will be “easier”. I just pray for the strength to get through each day.
Thank you Kelly for sharing with those of us who are “walking in your shoes.”
Hi Keitha,
I know exactly how you feel. I didn’t write this beautiful poem but I love it. You’re right and I know many of us get the same reaction. How are you doing? But they don’t want to hear the answer and the conversation changes. You won’t get that on GRASP fb or if you join a local group. We ALL understand and go back and forth between good days and horrible days and tolerable days. So we are here for each other. I am so very sorry about your loss. My son, Jeff, was 27 when he died August 5,2008. It is easier most of the time, but I think of him every minute and I miss him terribly. Some days I am so sad I can’t bear it…but mostly, with the support of those who love me and loved him, it’s “softer”. Hoping to hear more from you…Denise Cullen
Beautiful <3
Your poem says what I always want to tell my extented family. I feel I can never cry around them, because they get so sad, for us. My niece was nineteen when she passed away on October 10th 2010. I going through another rough patch now, and can not seem to pull myself out. I do stay away from alot of people, because they don’t know what to say to my family. Your poem I will write down, and have my extented family read it. Thank you
My beautiful son passed away March 1,2005. Seven lonely years, missed every moment, always loved. I’ve cried buckets, as I cry now, heart broken, never to be repaired, the hole is to large, the loss is too great. Why? Because his older brother taught him to believe in drugs as a fix all. tied…need an upper, can’t sleep need a downer, depressed…need an upper, need to bulk up…need a steroid…can’t cope…need to shoot yourself through the heart with a rifle, Now older brother is a drugged up mess, jail, broke, sick and going down the same path. And he lies and points fingers, it;s everybodies fault but his, refuses help unless it’s money. Pray for all of us.
I can identify. My son recently died of a drug overdose and I have a 16 year old. My son who died encouraged my 16 year old not to do drugs.