when your basket is empty
and your heart comes apart
when you think of his face
and his voice, your dear heart

if you feel quite alone
and so empty inside
when you give anyway, though
you just want to hide

if you come to the end
when your spirit feels drained
when you feel there is nothing
left to be gained

by staying, believing,
by just holding on,
when your faith is an ember,
when your trust is just …gone

you come to a place
that you never have been
where you want to give up
to let go, to give in

but you hold on to hope
though it’s only a thread
and you think it is useless
that he’s gone; he is dead

but you hold on anyway
and you think of the day
he’ll walk back through the door
as though never away

so you write to him, letters
filled with love, you don’t share,
and you pour out your heart, as though
he’s standing there

and your hope becomes stronger
you feel courage once more
and you live for the day when he
walks through the door

and you turn and live now
for the people right here
because nothing is permanent
our last breath may be near

and you find little places
of joy and content; and
each day you give thanks
for each moment, well spent

nf 7dec2019

There are miracles. Today I wrote a letter to my son Ben. I write these often, but something broke in me today. I’ve been filled with hopelessness due to current circumstances, forgetting that everything, including this too, shall pass.

The point is, as much as I wanted to help others and to give, I felt like there was nothing but darkness in me — as though I was scraping the bottom of my spirit for so long that it was a bloody, raw place. So the guilt of feeling this way, as though I was selfish for not being able to step up and do more, was crushing.

I thought, “I am not the only one in pain.  Why aren’t I stronger? Why is this so overpowering?”  I forgot another important truth. I can do what I can with what I have where I am.

With love and gratitude,


Ben’s Missing Person link on NAMus.gov


Updates here

Missing Benjamin on under1000skies.org