Even now I wonder where the little boy went. The one who could always melt my heart with a look, a touch, a smile. The one who always gave more than he ever took or asked for. The young man who was going to one day play for the Green Bay Packers. The teenager that the phone always rang for. The fourteen year old who still hugged his mom in front of his friends. The young man who knelt beside me in church. The young man who still let me read to him before bed. The young man who was getting better looking everyday. The young man who seemed to have as many “girlfriends” as guy friends. The young man with the bank account saving for his first car. The young man who was going to one day fall in love, marry, and bring home grandchildren that would remind me of him.

Even now when I have come so far I wonder where you are

Even now I think about you

Even now I wake up crying in the middle of the night and I wonder how it still can hurt so bad

Even now when I never hear your name

Even though the world has changed so much since you’ve been gone

Even now when I have come so far

I wonder why it’s still so hard without you

God I wish you knew somehow (excerpt; Even Now by Barry Manilow)

Even though Barry Manilow is singing about a lost love, he seems to know well what it is like to be left behind by the death of a loved one. The words of his song reflect what those of us who have been grieving for awhile already know. No matter how far we may have come, no matter how much may have changed, no matter how much we may be enjoying life again since the death of our loved one; there will always be an “EVEN NOW.”

Sometimes we won’t be conscious of it. Even then it waits to reveal itself. When it does, it grips us so tightly we can’t believe it has us in its grasp again. The difference now is we have learned that fighting it only increases its intensity. We have learned that though the feelings and pain are real; now they are visitors, not full time residents controlling every aspect of our lives.

What time teaches us is that we will always grieve for our loved ones and that’s okay. Our grief is a testament to our love, to what we had, to what we hoped to have. Grief softens our edges. It is through our grieving that we come to the place where we can embrace life again even with the “EVEN NOWS’ that will continue to happen.

Still missing you Shawn, even now after all these years.

Deb Kosmer

© 2006



Deb Kosmer

Deb has worked at Affinity Visiting Nurses Hospice for ten years, the first two as a hospice social worker and the last eight as Bereavement Support Coordinator supporting families before and after the death of their loved ones. She provides supportive counseling, developed and facilitates a variety of grief support groups, including a well-attended group for men only as well as other educational events. Deb received her Bachelor’s degree in Social Work from UW-Oshkosh and her Master’s degree in Social Work from UW Milwaukee. She received her certification in Thanatology through ADEC. Her writing has appeared in New Leaf Magazine, We Need Not Walk Alone, Living with Loss, Grief Digest, numerous hospice publications and EAP publications. Some of her poetry on death and dying will be included in a college textbook for social workers in end of life soon. New Leaf has also used some of her poetry for a line of sympathy and anniversary of death cards. On a personal level, Deb's 14-year-old son died after being struck by a car. Her 31-year-old sister had died in a car accident eight months earlier, and her 56-year-old father died from a heart attack exactly three years before. These three unexpected deaths within three years started Deb on a journey she never wanted to be on and she learned first-hand the importance of having the help and support of others. In the years since, she has experienced other losses, the most recent being the unexpected death of her 44-year-old step-daughter who died from complications three months after routine surgery. Deb's passions are writing, reading, education, nature, and family. She is currently working on a book of her grief poetry. She recently moved with her husband to Waypost Camp, Hatley WI. Her husband accepted a job there as Property Manager and his position allows them to live on-site with acres of woods and a lake. She anticipates the quiet beauty to be a strong catalyst for writing.

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