Guest guest Posted February 13, 2004 Report Share Posted February 13, 2004 Perhaps Perhaps they would have grown apart. They were very different people. She was tall with light brown hair and a twinkle in her eye. People loved her without knowing why. She was that kind of girl. He was shorter than she was and rather unremarkable. His name was Mark and he kept rabbits in the backyard. He had fallen hard for her and never apologized for it. He was fearless in his devotion to her. When she entered the hospital for the last time, the phone rang in the hospital room and the mother was told that there was a delivery for her daughter at the nurse's station. Her mother walked down the hall and took possession of a small vase with a single, long-stemmed rose in it. The card read, "To Laurie, Love Mark." She rode the elevator up to her daughter's room. In silence she placed the vase by her daugter's bed, but she never saw it. Her vision had failed. As her mother held her, she wondered if her daugher and her boyfriend would have gotten along. She would never know. Her daughter died with a loose front tooth. She was only seven years old. The boy is grown now, but every now and then, the mother remembers the long-stemmed rose. Vicki Woodyard http://www.bobwoodyard.com Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 13, 2004 Report Share Posted February 13, 2004 Dear Vicki, Would you mind if I asked something? Is this story about your daughter? --- skiplaurel <vicki wrote: > Perhaps > > Perhaps they would have grown apart. They were very > different people. She was tall with light brown > hair and a twinkle in her eye. People loved her > without knowing why. She was that kind of girl. > > He was shorter than she was and rather unremarkable. > His name was Mark and he kept rabbits in the > backyard. He had fallen hard for her and never > apologized for it. He was fearless in his devotion > to her. > > When she entered the hospital for the last time, the > phone rang in the hospital room and the mother was > told that there was a delivery for her daughter at > the nurse's station. > > Her mother walked down the hall and took possession > of a small vase with a single, long-stemmed rose in > it. The card read, "To Laurie, Love Mark." She > rode the elevator up to her daughter's room. In > silence she placed the vase by her daugter's bed, > but she never saw it. Her vision had failed. > > As her mother held her, she wondered if her daugher > and her boyfriend would have gotten along. She > would never know. Her daughter died with a loose > front tooth. She was only seven years old. The > boy is grown now, but every now and then, the mother > remembers the long-stemmed rose. > > Vicki Woodyard > http://www.bobwoodyard.com > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 13, 2004 Report Share Posted February 13, 2004 Dear Vicky, May Lord Shiva ease the pain of your husband and yourself and grant you both the strength to bear this terrible sickness. I know he will. In the face of death words fail, so I apologize. I just want to let you know that I believe you are a wonderful, sincere, warmhearted and very spiritual person indeed. I have visited your website and I love your writings. There is nothing I can do for you, but I think you are doing well to remind people of death. If we don't confront it, it will sure come to confront us. Death has been very close to me these last years, too. Only abiding in Ramana has helped. Love and strength from Berlin Christina On Feb 14, 2004, at 04:05, skiplaurel wrote: > Perhaps > > Perhaps they would have grown apart. They were very different > people. She was tall with light brown hair and a twinkle in her eye. > People loved her without knowing why. She was that kind of girl. > > He was shorter than she was and rather unremarkable. His name was > Mark and he kept rabbits in the backyard. He had fallen hard for her > and never apologized for it. He was fearless in his devotion to her. > > When she entered the hospital for the last time, the phone rang in > the hospital room and the mother was told that there was a delivery > for her daughter at the nurse's station. > > Her mother walked down the hall and took possession of a small vase > with a single, long-stemmed rose in it. The card read, "To Laurie, > Love Mark." She rode the elevator up to her daughter's room. In > silence she placed the vase by her daugter's bed, but she never saw > it. Her vision had failed. > > As her mother held her, she wondered if her daugher and her boyfriend > would have gotten along. She would never know. Her daughter died > with a loose front tooth. She was only seven years old. The boy is > grown now, but every now and then, the mother remembers the > long-stemmed rose. > > Vicki Woodyard > http://www.bobwoodyard.com > > > > Monsoonhouse Int. Kovalam/Kerala contact: christianecameron Attachment: (text/enriched) [not stored] Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 13, 2004 Report Share Posted February 13, 2004 , christiane cameron <christianecameron@m...> wrote: > Dear Vicky, > > May Lord Shiva ease the pain of your husband and yourself and grant you > both the strength to bear this terrible sickness. I know he will. > > In the face of death words fail, so I apologize. I just want to let you > know that I believe you are a wonderful, sincere, warmhearted and very > spiritual person indeed. I have visited your website and I love your > writings. > > There is nothing I can do for you, but I think you are doing well to > remind people of death. If we don't confront it, it will sure come to > confront us. Death has been very close to me these last years, too. > Only abiding in Ramana has helped. > > Love and strength from Berlin > > Christina Dear Christina, Thank you for your kind words. I had no idea what I would write tonight. I never do. Things come forward and I try to write them down. If I write about death, it is because it is very relevant. Believe me, I would give the world to be "normal." But we take what we are given. I am sorrowing, studying, remembering, forgetting and everything in between. Today Bob and I went to the mall and had lunch out. He is on a break from chemo and we are being more normal than usual. Although we are going through hell, we don't always profit from it. I tell him to hush up if I am watching tv and he tries to talk to me. He tells me he doesn't like brussel sprouts and that he heard me snoring last night. What can you do? I notice that Kerala is by your name. Where do you live? > > > > > > > > > Monsoonhouse Int. > Kovalam/Kerala > contact: christianecameron@m... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 14, 2004 Report Share Posted February 14, 2004 Dear Vicky, > > Thank you for your kind words. I had no idea what I would write > tonight. I never do. Things come forward and I try to write them > down. Yes your writing is spontaneous and inspired. And I am sure its a great consolation at this time of trial. I go about writing much the same way. An inner urge can rise up any time, I take my laptop and the words come out. No inner inspiration, no writing. Even if I try the outcome is useless. > If I write about death, it is because it is very relevant. Believe > me, I would give the world to be "normal." But we take what we are > given. I am sorrowing, studying, remembering, forgetting and > everything in between. Vicky, what do you mean by "I would give the world to be normal"? I think talking about death is very normal indeed. At least it should be. Unfortunately most people ban it from their lives until they have to learn the hard way. Interestingly death, dying, care for the dying has started to become a discourse in German public, which I am very pleased to see. To be prepared for death is crucial and one can never start early enough to prepare oneself. For most people the subject is too scary to even talk about and many are plagued by strong fears and panic attacks (I was). Major Chadwick describes in his memoirs how he used to encounter fear of death during meditation. People laughed about him in public, but later on they came up to him to admit that they were encountering similar fears. Bhagawan said, that it was the ego's fear of being killed through Atma Vichara. > > Today Bob and I went to the mall and had lunch out. He is on a break > from chemo and we are being more normal than usual. Although we are > going through hell, we don't always profit from it. I tell him to > hush up if I am watching tv and he tries to talk to me. He tells me he > doesn't like brussel sprouts and that he heard me snoring last night. > What can you do? There is comfort in small every day things. Give my regards and best wishes to your husband. > > I notice that Kerala is by your name. Where do you live? My husband is from Kerala and we have a half build house there. I have lived there for about seven years and we are planning to return and finish Monsoonhouse, which is going to be a center for cultural learning cum social project as soon as finance allows. Right now we are living in Berlin. Sincerely, Chris > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Monsoonhouse Int. > > Kovalam/Kerala > > contact: christianecameron@m... > > > > /join > > > > > > "Love itself is the actual form of God." > > Sri Ramana > > In "Letters from Sri Ramanasramam" by Suri Nagamma > > > > Links > > • > / > > • > > > • Terms of > Service. > > Monsoonhouse Int. Kovalam/Kerala contact: christianecameron Attachment: (text/enriched) [not stored] Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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