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Widowed Village connects peers with each other for friendship and sharing. The moderators, administrators, and others involved in running this site are not professionals.

Please don't interpret anything you read here as medical, legal, or otherwise expert advice. Don't disregard any expert's advice or take any action as a result of what you read here.

We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."

The violin wept it’s tears in the rain
Wept like a heart that is rent with pain
Wept of sorrows too deep to express
Whispered of longing too secret to guess.
Only the wailing wind and I knew
Of the longing too wide to escape.
I could not hold the music in my hand
To whisper, yes, I understand..
I know what it is to have my soul die
I know of pain that cannot cry
I know what it is to call out in pain
For a hand I cannot hold again –
The Violin keened it’s last sobbing note
The violinist packed it with it’s bow.
And left. He would never know
How his music spoke to me, and how it cried with me.
But I know – and I am missing thee.


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Comment by kln82 on April 10, 2017 at 5:31pm

Beautiful words that express our grief. Thanks for sharing.

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