By Nancy Myerholts
Those of us who have traveled a while
Along this path called grief,
Need to stop and remember that mile
The first mile of now relief.
It wasn’t the person with answers
Who told us the ways to deal,
It wasn’t the one who talked and talked
That helped us start to heal.
Think of the friends who quietly sat
And held our hands in theirs,
The ones who let us talk and talk
And hugged away our tears.
We need to always remember
That more than the words we speak,
It’s the gift of someone who listens
That most of us desperately seek.