Family: Home for the Wounded Heart

Lord, grant me courage;
Lord grant me strength
Grant me compassion,
That I may be,
Your Heart today.

Regrets, placed at the end of every life story. We cried over things we forget to say to someone we neglected for a long time. We clamor for repentance, when someone is already in grave. We shed tears, we stormed sorrows, we owned pain, we suffered from loss. All are in the end of the road, a dead end for the berieved, a reservoir for dumping such heartaches.

How painful to see, a mother suffering from her illness. So weak, so fragile, her skin was thin, her hands seems futile, her dying eyes retreating from pain, her debilitating and numbered heartbeat, all I can say is, What they have done to you? And on my second thought, What I have done to you?

Days has passed, as the leaf falls off from a tree, like a dying wax from a candle. All we asked is a miracle from Heaven. But days seems so bleak, like a sun shuttered by clouds. And the day had come, you left us all.

We shared our sentiments, we stormed the room with tears, as we bid farewell.

We will never forget, the days, weeks, months, years we had. I love you Lola.

For you are my family, you are my home for my wounded heart.


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