This is a poem to make you appreciate your daddy.

I was very close to my father and I miss him very much. I wrote this on fathers day in 1993, the year after he died.

In Loving Memory Of My Daddy
William Randall Sartor

My dad died suddenly with a heart attack when I was 22. No matter the days that have past, I can still feel him nearby and there are times that I miss him so. As long as he lives in my memory, he will always be close by. If your dad has died also, may this poem comfort you.

My father passed away in Oct. of '98. He was a wonderful man, and I'll always remember him. That is why I wrote this poem. To tell others of how was.

On the anniversary of the passing of our beloved 12 year old German Shepherd, the pain of remembrance was brought back in full force. The raw emotions resurfaced at that time, to pen this poem:

In fond remembrance of Misty; Feb. 23, 1988 - May 10, 1999

This poem is about my 21 year old brother who died 2 months ago in a car accident. I love him so much and even though he's not physically here, he's with me in my heart and my mind.

My mother told me that God would always be my closest friend in life. In February 1998 she passed away. Remembering those words, I wrote this poem several months later. Mom has gone to be with her friend.

This is a poem that I want to dedicate to my cousin Jason. He was special to everyone and touched a lot of hearts. He died of suicide at the age of only 14. I just want to say I miss you, Jason - and I will always love you. I am 13 years old and in the 7th grade. Jason 4/27/84-3/6/99

This is a poem in memory of Nikki who was killed in a car accident on 4/24/99. She was a good friend of mine and I want her memory to live on. The car accident was preventable, but the driver was going about 70 mph on Suicide Hill.

We attended the funeral of a friend of a friend, held at Bolton Abbey, North Yorkshire, England. The site is very beautiful, by a river, far out in the country. As the cortege passed down the hill, one could hear the rush of the river, the cry of the curlews overhead, the intonation of the priest. It all made a strong impression on me, and I went home and wrote this poem for the survivor.

The loss of a loved one is difficult at best, and often we can't accept that they're gone. So we choose not to believe and attempt to recover that person through someone else.