You and Me

You and Me

You and Me--two broken vessels,

holding tight,

waiting for the glue to dry--a mosaic

of shattered beauty rising from despair.

You and Me--a team, equally yoked,

wading through the mire of grief and pain,

--tear-stained and weak,

finding strength in one another’s

empty arms.

You and Me--two hearts aching,

joined by an angel--

One willing to put himself aside to ensure

Our mortal joy

and eternal progression.

You and Me--unsuspecting beneficiaries

of love, carefully preserved and stored,

shared before winter’s bleakness

could consume our will to continue.

You and Me--two clasped hands,

cherishing memories of the past,

moving ahead to a faith-filled future,

learning to dance again.

You and Me--two unfinished chapters,

patiently shelved, now ready to discover

Our happily-ever-after

in the everyday pages of living.

You and Me--one heart, void of fear,

trusting this path of hope and healing,

--willing to live, laugh, and love again.

CC Thompson

June 2016

Blessed and Broken--a poem for two voices

Blessed and Broken
by CC Thompson

I am blessed to have known twenty-four years of unconditional love, laughter, tolerance, and mutual respect. I am blessed that my children are old enough to have absorbed his goodness, heeded his counsel, followed his example and will forever remember his warm wisdom and playtime whiskers on their skin. I am blessed to know our family is eternal. I am blessed by the luxury of others knowing--or trying to know--our family’s pain as they watch from afar, praying to understand as we ride an erratic roller coaster of emotion through this second year of grief.   I am blessed to have been given a second chance at love--a companionship, sanctioned from beyond the veil, encouraged for my benefit and that of a brother he loved more than life. I am blessed to know that God is aware of me, directing me through a path no one would ever choose given life’s menu of adversity; and yet, somehow I am satisfied with my refining journey--one I know will lead to a grand, eternal vista, a view beheld through grief-granted eyes of gratitude. But...I am blessed.

I  am heartbroken to think that those years of child-rearing, home-building, church-serving, and date-nighting are becoming memories on a page, fading with the infrequent sound of his name. I am heartbroken they have to reminisce rather than experience--clinging to recollections like dreamers fighting to stay asleep, only to wake and find that the impressions they seek have slipped from their grasp. I am heartbroken as I anticipate life’s milestones without him: graduations, weddings, reunions, anniversaries, birthdays, grandchildren and the many nicknames the best “Bapa” would’ve earned. I am heartbroken when others aren’t afforded the same tender mercy in their private struggles; the sorrows of quiet hearts suffering in silence are often ignored by those looking in. I am heartbroken we both had to lose so much to know the healing balm of happiness--a tear-filled gift few will ever have need to comprehend. I am heartbroken to think that my test is not complete; my quota for tragedy may not have been met, as that which the Lord giveth can yet be taken away… I am blessed and broken.