Death

A word of many things.
Such sorrowness…
Yet such compassion…
Deep despair…
Yet a time of happiness…
Grieving…
Rejoicing…
Missing a love one…
Or of one so near to the heart.
Grateful for the end of the suffering
For those going home.
One thing for sure…
Confusion.
Yet, it too, can be a misunderstanding
Of the Lord’s purposes.
The only word to really describe death..
Is death itself.
Oh Lord, help us to understand.

1-16-1987 Saturday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Our Loss, Their Gain

She misses him.
He misses her.
So many lives
have been disturbed.
Death is a fact
that none can escape.
It’s much more serious
than a nick or scrape.
Souls are relieved
of their living pain.
In our loss
is their gain.
Jesus awaits
to embrace,
and all the pain
is soon erased.
He extends His arms
to those in mourning.
“You will see them again,
some glad morning.”

8-22-11 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

They Need Your Care

The headache, God, please relieve her headache.
His sinuses, Father, please stop his pain.
These people who serve You daily.
They have helped me again and again.
Touch their bodies, Lord.
Touch their lives.
Help them to smile
and bear their strife.
Give them peace.
Give them strength.
Help them to find joy
in You again.
My pastor and his wife
need Your care.
I thank You, God,
to trust You’ll be there.

6-4-03 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)
Inspiration: dear friends ❤

One Last Shot

For so many months now,

I’ve denied you were even gone.

I can’t believe it’s really true,

or understand what went on.

No one knows the mystery

you’ve taken to the grave.

What made you find the guts to do

something that’s really brave?

Well, I guess I’ll never really know

just what it was that took

a beautiful caring young man

and made him go for the hook.

Within the night he took a shot

at giving one last breath.

But unfortunately fate erupted

and brought to him his death.

What will ever stop the agony

that fills a heart like his?

I wish I knew a way to change

the reality that exists.

 

11-23-91 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

Inspiration: Dean

He’s Dead and Gone

He’s gone and no one could bring him back.
He’s dead and life is all he lacks.
Why can’t we give him the breath to reawaken now?
I know we could do it if we could just figure out how.
Why is it so hard to discover the secret of death?
If we could conquer it, we could give him breath.

10-6-91 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

She Grieves

She cries, Lord. She grieves.
She has lost her beloved sister.
They have been sisters for so long.
She is going to miss her.
They have grown, learned,
and survived for so long together.
She wishes it was her turn too,
so they can be together forever.
Such love You well understand,
as You lost dear ones too,
Your dear friend Lazarus
and Your cousin John too.
You wept and grieved
and was broken for Your friends.
You too wanted all well again.
While Lazarus was restored
and returned from the dead,
You did not revive John
because God had other plans instead.
And because I know You know
what she is going through,
I pray that You would have
the Comforter see her through.

2015 written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: My dear friend, Aunt (through Bobby), secret sister, and sister in Christ… Virginia.

Farewell Childhood Friend

Farewell my childhood friend.
It’s time to let you go.
You have been such a comfort,
more than you’ll ever know.
It’s sad seeing you leaving.
I’m sure it must be best.
Life has long been the teacher
that keeps giving us the test.
May you find happiness
in all you venture in.
Take good care of yourself
and don’t forget your friend.

11-5-11 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)
PS… for someone no longer here 😦

You Were Dear

A sign is left behind
that you were here.
You were loved.
You were dear.
Your life is gone,
Your spirit near.
How we miss
You being here.
We love you brother.
We miss you so.
God is blessed.
This we know.
Hug him for us,
As you wait along.
I hope we won’t
Be too long.

11-5-11 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)
This was written for my baby brother Charlie who was killed when he was 37 years old. My mom had him 10 months after I was born. I always told everybody he was my 1st birthday present. Some people thought we were twins because we shared the same age for a couple of months each year.
His 2 favorite songs at the time of his death were
I Can Only Imagine by MercyMe, and Long Black Train by Josh Turner

At Your Grave

Beauty in a death of one,
I really loved so much.
Though I’ve been through a lot,
I’ve never hurt as such
A devastating time as this.
It’s really something new.
How can I come to deal with it,
If I don’t know what to do?
All the days we shared together,
All the smiles we gave,
I never knew there’d be a day
I’d stand here at your grave.

8-9-89 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

Knock, Knock

Sitting in my lazy boy,
I suddenly hear a knock.
As I open up the door,
I find a yellow sock.
I look around the corner side
and all around the yard.
I do not see anyone
though I am looking very hard.
A week goes by so suddenly,
I go to watch the news.
They’re talking of a murdered girl
found without her shoes.
Dressed in her yellow shorts,
one of her socks was gone.
Over on my nightstand
lays the other one.
I stare at it so very close.
I go to hold the sock
and all that I can think of
is the day I heard the knock.

7-18-89 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

In The Woods

Help a little girl so scared, running for her life.
The man is trying to catch her, to cut her with his knife.
In the woods there is a ditch which leads her to a fall.
Turning back to find the man, he stands there strong and tall.
With force he takes this little girl and tries to take her best.
Now the little girl’s strength is put to the ultimate test.
She beats, she hits, she takes a swing, trying her best to fight.
But since his strength overwhelms, her weakness is the night.
This man rises up from her and draws the knife to kill.
You cannot wake this little girl lying there so still.
7-17-89 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)
I use to write about “this little girl” in many different ways without even thinking about it until a counselor I had years ago pointed it out, asking me if I would change the endings to a happy ending. I told him, “No. Because then it wouldn’t be beautiful any more.” He told me it was unhealthy to romanticize death. So I made a deal with him to write some new ones giving her a happy ending. He then starting giving me challenges to write about other things.
Now years later, I experience such fear just reading one line. They feel so evil. I was encouraged not too long ago to continue to share them, partly as a testimony as to what God did even in my writing, and to think about why they scare me so, and why I wrote them. So as I add my poetry onto the computer once again, you will see them. I still experience great discomfort in going over them… like I will pay for it. Whatever the Lord asks of me, I want to obey. Lord willing, He will help me to understand their significance. Lord willing, He will remove that fear.

He Needs a Blanket

“We could take him a blanket. To keep him warm, Mom,” the child giggles. “Why else would he need it? But, Mom, you know how cold he gets. If we let him go without a blanket, he’ll get sick. We can’t let him down. Why are you looking at me like that? You look so sad. It’s o.k., Mom. All we have to do is take him a blanket. It’ll be all right.What do you mean he’s gone?” The child smiles and cheerfully continues. “No, he’s not. He’s just asleep, but he needs a blanket. Let’s take his favorite one, the blue one. He’ll love us for it. No, he’s not, Mom. He’s not gone. Come on, I’ll show you where he is. Don’t forget his blanket.”
The mother takes the child to her brother. The child jumps out of the car and runs eagerly to her brother’s side. She spreads out the blanket, on the ground, covering every inch of the freshly dug dirt. She talks to her brother.
“Hey, Brad. I thought about how cold you must be and talked mom into letting me bring you a blanket. She wasn’t going to let me at first, but I told her you would need it. Look, it’s your favorite one, the blue one. I remembered how you said it always kept you warm. Oh and look… shhhh… don’t tell Dad, but I snuck his big blue pillow to you, too. Remember how you always waited for Mom and Dad to leave every morning, just to savor an extra hour or two of laying your head on it? You always said it made you feel better. I hope it makes you feel better now. I can’t believe they left you out here to freeze. They know how cold you get. If you get sick and die, I’ll never forgive them. I love you, Brad. I miss you so much. Please come home soon.”
The mother, with her head hung low, stands beside her child. As tears roll down her cheeks, she wonders how she’ll ever help her child to understand she’ll never see her brother again because he’s already dead.

12-11-1992 Friday
Written by Gail Brookshire
(published in Flight, Spring ’95, page 45)
(by the grace of God)
This little short story was written when I had lost a dear 19 yr old cousin to suicide.
I had no idea at the time that so many of the details would be so relatable to the loss of my baby brother who was killed 16 years later at the age of 37.