This poem was written three and a half months after losing Eliana. I wrote it not only for me, but for all my friends who are grieving their losses, whether it be dreams, or illusions, or children. I am so sorry for our pain. I wish things were different.


by Deanna Parish

My yearbook tells the story

of the dreams that we all dreamed

of dating and true love and weddings

and happiness that seemed

to be just around the corner

just waiting for us to find.

We knew it would take effort

but it would be worth it. We didn’t mind.

We all moved on. We settled down

with our men and with our babies.

As teenagers how could we have known

that as adults we’d realize maybe

we should have been more realistic.

We should have seen the light.

Sometimes dreams just don’t come true

no matter how hard you fight

because men still cheat and money runs out

and babies sometimes die

and no matter how long and hard we question it

we will never understand why.

We’re left to grieve and hurt and cry

and just try to muddle along

wondering how the story in my yearbook

could have turned out to be so wrong.

(Note: The questions have already started, so I need to specify that I am not referring to my husband cheating. It has, however, happened to people I love. The pain and grief they feel is no less real or horrible than my own. This poem is a lament for all of our dreams that have died, regardless of their nature.)