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Dearly Departed

A place for obituaries and memorials of those who you loved and have died.

Featured Work

Forever by my side.... by Mel Spittall

Desmond John Spittall / 28.09.51-24.03.08 The original photograph of me and my dad was taken by my mum Liz Spittall when i was young (obviously), on our farm in Currumbin Valley. I treated it in PS to create an image i feel reflects us, as me and dad were quite similar. / I wanted to share this with the Bubble community as perhaps there can be some healing in sharing? REMEMBER WHEN ONLY MEMORIES REMAIN… The clouds outside my window are heavy and grey today… / connected… / reflecting the state of my heart. Distant memories of times gone by play over in my mind… / suspended moments in time… / People, faces forgotten from years past. / Good times and bad, a minds photographs. Gone is my rock, my constant… / my shining light amoungst the maddness. / I want you here to hold me… / to make my world seem right. My super hero… / protector… / whats a girl do without her dad? Imprinted on my heart are some stars you left behind… I hear your voice somewhere in my sleep… When the tears fall again it will be for my heart, / for now you are safe… / at one with the eternal… Forever… Remember when only memories remain… I am so proud to be your daughter… / I love you Dad…xo
Remember by Deidre Cripwell

Suddenly the night has grown colder. / The god of death preparing to depart / Dad hoiseted on his shoulder / The slip between the sentries of the heart As someone long prepared for this to happen / Go firmly to the window, drink the sight it. Say goodbye to dad leaving / Dad leaving with his lord Based on words by Leonard Cohen
If you bury him in this spot... by Denzil

I found this poem on a blog for a young eventing rider, Laine Ashker, who was critically injured at the recent Rolex Three Day Event, Lexington, Kentucky. She is recovering well, and in fact was discharged from hospital yesterday. (Update – she is competing again…) Her horse, Frodo Baggins, broke his neck and was euthanased. This poem was posted as a tribute to Frodo, and it brought a tear to my eye as well, as I remembered my beautiful old boy Jack, who is in fact buried just a few yards from this very spot. _If you bury him in this spot, / The secret of which you must already have, / He will come to you when you call – / Come to you over the far, dim pastures of death, / And down the remembered paths to your side again. / And though you ride other living horses throughout life / They shall not shy at him or resent him coming. / For he is yours and he belongs there. People may scoff at you, / Who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, / Who hear no nicker pitched too fine for insensitive ears. / People who may never really love a horse. / Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, / And which is well worth knowing. The one place to bury a horse is in the heart of his mistress._ Author unknown
With Love! to Grandma Nellie. by Tiamaria

Maggie was only three and a half when Grandma Nellie passed away, and yet can remember so many things about her. She was hesitant to visit at first, but was soon comfortable, and happy to have been able to leave her flower as an Easter gift. We love and miss you Grandma.
Rembrandt Puss 1996 by Cathie Brooker

My beloved Loopin as regal as any aristocrat.
mother and child collaboration by nigelnash

this is a collaboration with a brilliant artist “alan findlater” he did this pic and i have done the words - / MOTHER AND CHILD . i hear you whisper to me / beyond our sacred tree / i hold u in my arms with glee / because your here with me . / i swear my son / i love you / i can never be the same / since that day your father left / we neednt live again / so say goodbye my lovely / as we go down to the edge / this world is too cruel for us / i make my sacred pledge / ” its for the best ” i whisper / as we go further down / the water envelops us / your smile turns to a frown / as i see tears in your eyes / it makes me start to think / if we got further in here / my god ! oh no ! we could sink ! / my senses start to waken / as u start to cry / i place you on the side of the bank / as i look up and shout ” why ? ” / is it me i start to wonder / i didnt mean no harm / it wasnt me i ponder / that i saw in his arms / i pick you up and hold you / raise you in the air / this is not the way i thought / it really isnt fair / why did he leave us ? / what did he not see ? / we’re standing at this side of the bank / it should be him not we . / i wrap you up so warmly / and take u to the car / your smile has returned now / you know how close we are / so sorry i put you through this / its his fault , not mine / if it wasnt for his affair / we all would be so fine .
Guardian angel.... by Mel Spittall

Please know I will do all I can to ensure your grand daughter understands how special and loved her grandpa was, / how truly happy she made him, / and how much he loved her….. She will know you are her angel now….. / xoxo Taken from my letter to dad…. / Desmond John Spittall / 28.09.51 – 24.03.08

Recent Work

Cross by David DeWitt

An old cross adorns a Zuni tribal cemetary in the center of the Zuni pueblo.NM
Writing

Reconciliation…Thoughts on relationship and death

Thoughts on reconciling my relationship with God after the death of my son.
GENTLE MOMENTS GENTLE LIGHT by chick

TAKEN JUNE 2009…IN A VERY PEACEFUL VILLAGE CHURCHYARD IN WROTHAM ( Kent ) ENGLAND…THE LIGHT SEEMED TO ENHANCE AND EMBRACE THE HEADSTONES…A TIME FOR PEACE , THOUGHT AND REFLECTION…............. / THE PHOTOGRAPH HAS BEEN FEATURED IN AMAZING GRAVES…......
Portrait of John Andrew George Harris by Margaret Harris

Sepia Portrait of my husbands father . His eyes a little blue / HP photo paper / This photograph of my father-in-law was taken before the the second world war..He was probably about eighteen or nineteen here .He was born in Southampton Ontario in 1921..He was a scouter in the war in the airforce and still had his leather jacket when I met him..He married my mother=in-law Margaret Didier a French Canadian girl after the war and they had three children…My husband John “Fletcher” was the oldest..then Richard and Lois…He was a sales man and sold tobacco kilns and was away all week and came home on the weekends….My husband took me to a bar to meet him…He was sitting there having a beer…We liked each other on site..His sense of homour was really out there, He went by the name of Jack..I new him for about twelve years …He died at the age of 64 from cancer…He was a great guy and he became a father to me…I realy loved him and miss him ….He was a real character…He wrote poetry…and drew weird pictures…A surrealist..He loved big band music and had stacks of records…Jack had a great speaking voice and would have made a great narrater …He could also write…I think the alcohol took away any dreams of doing anything with his talent…He had a great sense of humour even when he was sick…He never showed me his other side but the family talked about it…He hated dentists …his father was one and was always putting him in the chair.. He died with all his teeth though..He had a unhappy home life as a child .His little sister Lois died when she was about a year and a half and his mother became an alcoholic and his parents divorced…Jack also started to drink….When I came into the family he was already sick and he wasn’t drinking anymore…My mother-in -law Margarette Didiea is catholic other wise they would probably have divorced. They were never close in any way that I ever saw .. He was a big man 6’ 6” tall…My husband looks like him and has his height. but not like his father in other ways. ..Jack was barried in Southamptom near Grama Chineys grave in 1984. He is really missed !
Writing

Secrets Found…As she sits before the mirror looking into her past / One single tear cascading leaving a trail behind

Written from my broken heart that weeps yet still for the son that died 12-18-1996 ….
Writing

I Will Never Know…I had to miss our day because other things got in the way, / how I wish I’d been with you, / I should have spent those last precious hour…

A poem about my Father, Norman Maurice Eldridge. / My Dad passed away on Saturday 23rd July 1977.
at rest by Alleycatsgarden

at rest
Is It Halloween Already? by nannamanson

My favorite cemetery. Stock Photo-mummy: http://mjranum-stock.deviantart.com
Writing

The Rainbow Bridge…The bridge is colourful / The bridge is bright / The bridge is perfect / A beacon of light

Told from the point of view of a dead pet, waiting for its owner to join it so it can cross the bridge to Heaven.
Hold On To Hope by flipteez

Any little way possible XXXXXX pLeAsE hElP XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Perceptions of the Shadow World: Johny & The Walker by Cwithe .

Rovinj.Croatia
Feed Me by Jamie Lee

This is little Mootu asking to be fed. I added some filters to it to make it more animated. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-——- Please have a look at some of my other photos: / People/Portrait / Animals/Pets / Travel/Scenics / Flowers/Insects/Macros / BlackWhite / StillLife / Photoshop Image copyright © 2005, Jamie Lee. / Please note that copying, displaying or redistribution of this image without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.