Here is another, poetry really helps me
HELD BY A STRING
The white gauze fabric
that daddy brought home from Africa,
is rooted in half your history.
I was asked to pull a thread.
Did it come out gently?
Did it pull with tension?
As I pulled it gracefully,
un-weaving itself from the other strings.
But at the end it stayed tight.
I had to pull real hard,
to let it go completely.
Like the loss of you
sweet baby Soleil,
You gracefully fell from life.
I may not be ready yet.
But like the end of the string,
with a tug, a pull, and all my might,
I will have to work hard to let you go,
with kindness, with love, with peace.