Most people who frequent this blog know that both of my parents passed away last spring. They were young by today’s standards, 65 and 67. My mother was sick for some time and succumbed to kidney cancer in April. My father died suddenly 20 days earlier from a stroke. To say that the days leading to and following this one-two punch are a blur is an understatement, something I remember whenever I meet anyone I spoke to back then.
I had that experience earlier this week when I ran into a dear friend and her young daughter Talia who I’ve not seen much since then. As we swapped stories and caught up, Talia mentioned a poem she had written for me when she first heard about my folks. She, an aspiring writer who journals constantly, was 9 at the time. I recall vaguely her mother mentioning it, but my recollection goes no further than that. I asked her to send it along and was moved to tears when I received this…
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by Talia Pittaluga, Age 9
When life is hard without ease, Holy dreams may come to me.
An arm may lift me high into the sky where dreams come true under God’s eyes.
And he who cares will whisper in my ear. Life may not be at ease but don’t forget love is.
Then a tear drops in my eye and I know I’ll be o.k.
Thank you for this beautiful poem, Talia. You, my dear, are a born writer – heart and soul.
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