My last post I wrote about my mother’s death and how the mentally ill could deal with the death of a loved one. Below is a poem Brandi Thompson wrote concerning her death. I thought I would share with you.
The greatest light I’ve ever seen;
It wasn’t the biggest light,
It wasn’t a light that everybody got to see.
It was a light for a privileged few.
And, for those few,
It was the warmest, the most inviting, the most beautiful.
It was open arms and an open mind,
A warm oven, cold ice cream,
And four dollars in quarters for garage sales.
It was patience, love, laughter, and hugs.
The light was unblemished, never darkened by ill will.
It covered me like a perfect blanket,
It was my home when I had none.
My greatest light has run its course,
And I already miss its warmth and beauty.
I can feel darkness pull on me and put its arms around me.
I am swallowed by mourning and sadness.
Through the tightness in my chest, I can feel it.
The greatest light is still shining,
In my heart, my mind, my stories.
Perfection is never forgotten.
Though no human being can claim perfection,
My light was perfect to me.
By Brandi Thompson