Ask Our Mum How Is She

Our Mum, she tells a lot of lies
She never did before.
From now until the day she dies
She'll tell a whole lot more.

She used to tell the truth a lot,
But now it doesn't matter.
We died and went to heaven,
Her life is all a-shatter.

Ask our Mum how is she,
She'll say, "Yes, I'm fine!"
She wants to beg "Please help me.
I can't find those girls of mine!"

Ask our Mum, how is she,
She'll say, "I'm alright."
If that's the truth then please tell us,
Why does she cry each night?

Ask our Mum, how is she,
She seems to cope so well.
She didn't have a choice, you see,
Nor the strength to yell.

You think you know the feeling,
But this just cannot be.
For even though you loved us,
You didn't love us as much as she.

She will smile and tell you,
"It's o.k. God has a plan."
But she will turn away and cry
'Cause she just can't understand.

Tell a joke and she will laugh,
But she is not o.k.
She wants to share the joke with us,
But it will not be today.

We watch from here, in Heaven.
Her distress disturbs our peace.
Will someone please take care of her,
And thus take care of we?

"Some day you will feel better."
"Yes I will," she lies.
She knows this will not happen,
Until the day she dies.

Ask our Mum how is she,
She'll say, "Thank you. Good."
She cannot tell you how she feels.
Oh, how we wish she could.

Ask our Mum how is she,
"I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping."
For God's sake, Mum, just tell the truth
Just say your heart is broken.

Ask our Mum how is she,
"I'm well, I'm good. And you?"
We shake our heads in Heaven.
It simply isn't true.

She'll love us all her life.
We loved her all of ours.
But if you ask how she is,
She'll lie and say she's fine.

Her carnival is over.
She's stepped off the carousel.
But, to save you feeling badly,
She'll say, "Thanks, all is well."

Our Mum, she's not gone mad, yet.
But, oh so very nearly.
Don't ask our Mum how is she,
Ask how is she, really.

We are here in Heaven.
We cannot hug from here.
If she lies to you, don't listen.
Hug her, hold her near.

On the day we meet again,
We'll smile and We'll be bold.
We'll say, "You're lucky to get in here,Mum,
With all the lies you told!"

Written by Jo Burr

Another day...

I've had somewhat of a rough week... I had a student tell me that I should be a mom someday and asked me why I wasn't already. I almost lost it, but somehow, I was able to look at him and smile.

Today at lunch, one of the subs asked me if I had children. I didn't know what to say, so to avoid an explanation, I said no. She looked puzzled, and said she must have been thinking of someone else because she remembered talking with someone last year who was about to become a mother. I couldn't take it. I excused myself claiming I had to go back to my room.

How should I have answered such heartbreaking questions? They could never understand my feelings for my little girls. You see, I'll never hold them again; I’ll never hear them call me mommy. In the eyes of most people, I'm childless. However, in my eyes, Claire and Gracie are a part of me.

I'm just not the same as before I had them. I love them and think of them everyday, just as any mother would. Sometimes it becomes all too consuming, and I fall apart yet again.

What I do know is this; if anyone could see into my heart, they would know Claire and Gracie are always with me, always a part of me. So yes, I do have children . . .

One Month

It has been one month today since the girls were taken from us... It has almost become surreal. Sometimes we just look at each other and wonder if the last five months really happened. Then we go to visit them, and it becomes all too real.

We took the girls flowers today... Iris'. I think Claire would have loved the delicate petals, and Gracie would have loved the purple and yellow color. It is always so peaceful when we visit; I love watching the butterflies flutter around. Sometimes the pinwheels spin as if the girls are talking with us... at least that's what I like to pretend.

Anyway, we are both back at work in some capacity. Although my body shows-up, I'm not all there. I think David feels the same way. We've definitely been thrown into slow-mo. There just doesn't seem to be a reason to "hurry" around like we used to do.

I had several things that I wanted to write, but I can't seem to do it... maybe next time.

Tuesday - August 22

Today, Kristy and I made another trip up to visit the girls, and I think the reality of the situation has finally started to hit us. Kristy's body has returned to normal and her old clothes are starting to fit. This makes things seem normal even though it's still hard to imagine any kind of normal ever really returning...

We've spent quite a bit of time with our families over the past couple weeks and are appreciative that our co-workers have given us this time. Regarding that, I will be returning to work this Thursday and Kristy on the following Monday.

Below is a picture from today's visit. Kristy's father, Tom, insisted on having pinwheels, and Kristy's family stops by often to keep the flowers fresh. We haven't decided on a stone yet as we're not sure whether to get one just for them or one for the whole family.

Another Week...

Fortunately, the rest of the weekend was uneventful as both my brothers and everyone else made it home safely. Kristy has started (and now) nearly finished a scrapbook for the girls. During their births, she didn't understand why someone was taking pictures, but now she is very glad that they exist. The mementos that Debbie and the nurse staff at Clarian kept were amazing and we will be forever indebted to them.

On Saturday, Thad, Bobbi, Brandon and Crystal stopped by for a bit and dropped off a huge 8 lb ham with some sides. Thank you. Since Kristy and I couldn't get through it ourselves, we decided to make a trip back up to Markle since Sunday was our 12th anniversary and also our nephew Zach's 18th birthday. Unfortunately, we forgot our camera, but the girls' had had multiple visits and flowers from Kristy's family.

Below is a picture of us during the ceremony on Thursday. Kristy's father, Tom, is the man in the white shirt.