We do not need a special day to bring you to our minds.

The days we do not think of you are very hard to find.

Each morning when we awake we know that you are gone.

And no one knows the heartache as we try to carry on.

Our hearts still ache with sadness and secret tears still flow.

What it meant to lose you no one will ever know.

Our thoughts are always with you, your place no one can fill.

In life we loved you dearly; in death we love you still.

There will always to be a heartache, and often a silent tear.

But always a precious memory of the days when you were here.

If tears would make a staircase, and heartaches make a lane,

We'd walk the path to heaven and bring you home again.

We hold you close within our hearts; and there you will remain,

To walk with us throughout our lives until we meet again.

Our family chain is broken now, and nothing seems the same,

But as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again.



If I could talk to my brother, the poem above is what I would say. Except I would not want to bring him back from Heaven for one instant. And If my brother could talk to me, I believe the poem below is what he would say to me and all those who love him still.


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.

I am the gentle breeze

whispering through your hair.

I am the butterfly that fans your cheek,

gently reminding you I am near.

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 1932


The picture above is my brothers cabin. It sits on Markey Lake in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, deep within Ottawa National Forest. He loved it so very much there and it is where his ashes will rest.  All of his loving family have spent many happy days and nights there. We all love it. It's so quiet, peaceful and beautiful. After my first visit there, I wrote a poem for my brother, his wife, my two aunts, and myself. So, I would like to add it here for my brother.

If I had time to sit and dream

of where Id like to be,

Id go deep within a forest green

where the deer and bear roam free

and the Sand Hill Cranes waddle along

where roads and men are few;

where I can hear the Loons wild song

and watch an eagle soar into view.

If I had time to sit and dream

of what Id like to do

Id go deep within that forest green

and walk its paths with you.

Wed sit out in the dark of night

and talk of years gone by,

look up and watch the Northern Lights

as they dance across the sky.

If I had time to sit and dream

of the land I love the best,

Id go deep within that forest green

and become its constant guest.

In the land of sky blue waters,

land of Hiawatha's birth,

home of the beavers and otters

the most beautiful place on earth.

I once had time to more than dream

back in my younger days,

I went deep within that forest green

and fished its lake and bays.

There, where the wild berries grow,

where the air is so cool and clean,

Its where I dearly love to go

if only in a dream.

Ill soon have time to more than dream

of what I want from life,

Ill go deep within that forest green

free from all care and strife.

To live out my days in quiet peace

with no thought for time to dream,

until, with deaths sweet release

I rest; deep within my forest green.

By Lora Cox

For my brother John

His wife Julie

Aunt Eva

Aunt Jody


I also wrote a little poem just for him. It seemed I always missed my brother most of all at Christmas time. Last Christmas, 2001, I was up early, having my coffee and planning the dinner and thinking of my brother. I didn't get to see him as much as I would have liked and I was really missing him, so, I sent him this little poem in an email.


Heres a little poem I wrote for you  Brat, on Christmas morning 2001, at 6 A. M. cause I miss you.

When we get to heaven

I hope your house will be

Sitting on a golden street

Right next door to me.

For here on earth

We're too far apart

I can't reach out and touch you

To say what's in my heart.

There's too much time

And too much space

For me to look upon

Your sweet and smiling face.

So, when we get to heaven

I pray, God will let it be as before

When we were little children,

Together, for evermore.

I Love you, Merry Christmas


Please click on NEXT button and read the words to this beautiful song and view pictures of my brother