My cousin in Missouri posted on Facebook about how much she missed her son, Sean, who died young of congenital heart disease. I have seen many versions of the sentiment in this poem, usually gender neutral to apply to as large a group as possible. I thought about doing that, but this is my version, and I lost a son. The Lord has recently given me the gift of hearing from people who remember Tracy, and their words are so soothing to my soul. A friend who is a widow told me that after her husband died, only one of her friends ever mentioned him again. All of us worry about saying the wrong thing to those in grief, but I believe one of the worst things we can say to the suffering--is nothing.
It is a Gift to Hear His Name
To those who want to ease our pain--
help our loved one live again,
share a memory, make him real.
Tell about the loss you feel.
It is a gift to hear his name.
Let us know our much missed son
lives on in hearts besides our own.
Our grief parched souls are thirsty for
stories where he lives once more.
We're happy just to hear his name.
It is a gift to hear his name.
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