Go ahead and mention my child,
The one who died you know.
Don’t worry about hurting me further,
The depth of my pain doesn’t show.
Don’t worry about making me cry.
I’m already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
The tears that I try to hide.
I’m hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending she didn’t exist.
I’d rather you mention my child,
Knowing that she has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing.
I say “pretty good” or “fine.”
But healing is something ongoing.
I feel it will take a lifetime.
~Elizabeth Dent

(Thanks to my friend Ric who shared this poem with me.)