I wrote a version of this poem when Jim came to Georgia for a two month visit and we met and became dear friends. I was in love with him, but never told him. I didn't know that he loved me too. We both knew he was sick and Jim didn't want to hurt me. As he put it, "Jess, I'm dying. You deserve better than that." He returned to Indiana and my heart was broken. After getting one letter per day and on some days two and three letters, using up a sack filled with phone cards, and finally realizing that now is all we have, Jim asked me to marry him over the phone from Indiana to Georgia. I accepted, but later he still tried to talk me out of it. He didn't want me to be "saddled" with an invalid husband. As it happened, he went quickly and alone. I came home from work to find his body. He would have wanted it that way, but I miss him so much! I had two wonderful years with Jim and I wouldn't trade them for anything. If you're listening, Jim, have peace. The trip was well worth the fare.
Dear Jessica,
As I read through you links this morning it is getting harder and harder for me to type through tears. There is always a reason why things happen as they do, although it is not for us to understand in this world. It has taken me a very long time to accept that as fact.
You and your Jim were meant to share the time you had with each other here on this earth, and sweetie in the heaven's oh in the heavens, what a blessed reunion you will have.
My Love,
Lesa
Dear Jessica, as I read through your links this morning it is becomming harder for me to find a way to comment. Not that your words are not beautiful, and your heart so plainly seen, but because there is nothing I can do to ease your pain. Love, Lesa
Dear Jessica, as I read through your links this morning it is becomming harder for me to find a way to comment. Not that your words are not beautiful, and your heart so plainly seen, but because there is nothing I can do to ease your pain. Love, Lesa
I am, of course, sitting here with tears running down my face. You were both VERY lucky people to have found each other.
Kris
This poem is heartbreakingly good. The story, picture and poem together made me stop in my tracks. I am so sorry. So sorry.
On Shakespear's Sonnet #18, in B.V. About a lucky man.
~ ~ ~ ~
Stay lovely, you new Spring day.
Morn', noon, night, loneliness abide,
but Joy strengthens itself and me,
as Love eternal mellows Grief's stay.
Memories I choose and I'll keep strong.
My pallet is Beauty; all of its paints
wait application on this new blank canvas.
Canvas--new, brush--original, colors--memories.
Two things this Spring day shall not fade:
inhaling, I have the scents; exhaling, your name.
You walked around me, held me, kissed me,
laughed at but encouraged me; what a pair, we two!
We blended so well, through disimilarities.
The heart that truly loved me still lives.
"Poe" I'm not, nor "Rich" am I,
but I'll be famous, b'ye and b'ye !