To One In Sorrow

Editor’s Note…

Recently one of our members shared the following two pieces with me from her personal files.  The first one reflects the indescribable pain one feels when they have experienced the death of someone very close to them.   The poem “To One In Sorrow” was sent to her and  her husband by one of our former members who had experienced the death of their daughter.  Both the letter to “Ann Landers” and the poem speak to everyone who has ever experienced the death of someone they loved and to those who have tried to help those who are grieving.


Dear Ann Landers:

I hope you won’t mind my using your column to request a favor from our friends with small children.

Dear You Know Who You Are:

Please don’t complain to me about how you walked the floor all night with a baby cutting teeth and has the croup.  My child died recently, and I would give anything in the world to be in your shoes.  Right now I don’t have the strength to sympathize with you.  I, too, am losing sleep, but for other reasons.

Please don’t tell me I am still young and can have more children.  Our child didn’t have to die for us to have more.  Furthermore, the one we lost can never be replaced by another.

Don’t ask my husband how I am doing.  He isn’t much better.  A question like that suggests it is harder on me than him.  But men aren’t supposed to grieve in our culture.  (Another ridiculous notion!)

Do come and visit us.  We need you more now than on the day of the funeral.  So many people were there that day — and so few lately.  Do invite us to your social affairs.  We need to get out and be among friends.  If you don’t know what to say, a simple “I’m sorry” will be enough.

                                                                                                                                  Empty Arms in Missouri


  To One In Sorrow

Let me come in where you are weeping, friend,

And let me take your hand.

I, who have known a sorrow such as yours,

Can understand.

Let me come in — I would be very still

Beside you in your grief;

I would not bid you cease your weeping, friend,

Tears bring relief.

Let me come in — I would only breathe a prayer,

And hold your hand,

For I have known a sorrow such as yours,

And understand.

                                                                                                                         By Grace Noll Crowell


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