Shock or Disbelief
| Stages of Grief |
Acceptance and HOPE
Bargaining
Guilt
Anger
Depression
Denial
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
Here Comes the Sun George Harrison
In My Life (There are Places I Remember) Bette Midler
It's All Right Huey Lewis and the News
| (Had an Uncle, his name was) MATTHEW John Denver |
| A Dog's Purpose From A 4 Year Old Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, andtheir little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for the four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience. The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why." Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The four-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long." |
| Create your own canvas wall art from your vintage photos. |
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
(Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!)”
Mary Frye
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
(Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!)”
Mary Frye
 |  |  |  |  |  |  |
 |  |  |  |  |  |  |
'Funeral Blues'
Stop all the clocks, cut off the
telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking
with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with
muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the
mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning
overhead
Scribbling on the sky the
message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the
white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear
black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South,
my East and West,
My working week and my
Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk,
my song;
I thought that love would last
forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now;
put out every one,
Pack up the moon and
dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and
sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever
come to any good.
-- W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the
telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking
with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with
muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the
mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning
overhead
Scribbling on the sky the
message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the
white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear
black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South,
my East and West,
My working week and my
Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk,
my song;
I thought that love would last
forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now;
put out every one,
Pack up the moon and
dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and
sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever
come to any good.
-- W.H. Auden
| Please remember to "bookmark" or save favorite pages in your "favorites" file. Remember...purchasing items through our product-photo-links and underlined-text-links support this website through free commerce, small business, and entrepreneurial efforts. On-line merchants pay us a small advertising fee through Affilliate relationships. Just "left click" on the photo or underlined words and you will be transported to the merchant site to purchase product. When transaction is complete, please come back and visit more of our pages. click here to read our privacy policy Find a broken link? Please e-mail us: kaput@ingoodcompanymo.net |
