Fire. House burnt to the ground. Mother and two Daughters escape, Son with autism dies.

I will miss the funeral, but I'm thinking of you sadly.
I'd love to share the load somehow, though don't know if I could bear to, & hear more than the snippets we've caught down here of the horrific events in the past 2 weeks.

Some raw and possibly garbled thoughts below...



As I recall,
last time I saw him,
Eddie sat tall
and let me draw him.

Oh to dear Jill,
you Eddie's mother,
and the two girls,
missing a brother;

I feel unwell,
my voice feels smothered,
nothing to tell
to any other.

A few snippets
float down the line here,
pass like whippets,
don't feel sublime tears;

bring on the peace,
seems like a nightmare,
troubles don't cease
with Eddie not there.

Tragedies sad,
no more elation,
death of the lad,
interrogation,

house that is not,
all of your goods gone,
icons all shot
through with what's forlorn.

If love can be,
in a world of power.
Then we will see,
more than we see now.

And as love came
along with Eddie,
some might think shame,
incapacity,

looking quite weak;
but I saw Love there,
and so I speak
to give it some air.


Love with tears, ...