Yesterday marked the 20th anniversary of my Dad’s dying after 17 days in a most wonderful hospice. I thought about him yesterday, of course, and today feel his not being here more than usual. There’ve been so many times over the years when I’ve wanted to tell him something and a split second later, remember that I can’t.
This poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer just fits for today.
For the Heartbroken
December 8, 2024 by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I don’t know if there are angels,
but if there are, do they weep for us?
With all the beauty they know could be,
do they weep for all the pain we sow,
weep each time we hurt the world?
I don’t know if there are angels,
but sometimes when my own tears come,
I imagine the angels gather me
in their great and tireless arms,
and their tears mix with mine as they whisper,
That’s right, dear, feel everything.
We feel it all, too. That is why we sing.
Here’s one of my glass angels, for Dad.

















































