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1. Please decide the key messages that you would like to include....
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The draft is sent via e-mail. 5. You get the chance to review your poem, maybe sharing it with family and friends for their opinion. 6. I then incorporate your comments and thoughts into a new draft. 7. Steps 5 + 6 are repeated until you are totally satisfied with the outcome. 8. Once the final draft is agreed upon, you choose the style of card you would like your poem presented in.
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Hello My name is John Gaudet I wrote a short story that is very sad and I think it may be right for your site, would you let me know what you think? i will paste it below.
“Code Red, Code Red, 219”
These words heralded the premature exit of my little girl Sophie from this world. She died in room 219 of the Helenshank hospital for sick kids three days shy of her fourth birthday. The headaches started after she had been playing at the beach with her auntie three short months ago, and like some hungry wraith they had robbed her of a promising life, her once bright inner light dimmed beyond recognition. Sophie was our little miracle, my wife Teri and I had been trying to conceive for months and in fact were told by our doctor that the chances of us actually having a baby were pretty slim. But like the little scrapper she was, she pushed her way into this world on a snowy December night with a scream that signified the dawn of a new life for us. We absolutely adored her and Teri would spend hours singing and holding her “precious angel”. We would tell her of all the things she would do, the first day of school, walks in the park, summers at the beach and she was wonderful. Finally we had our angel, she taught me so much about love and unconditional trust, her light seemed to envelope us and for the first time in my life I really felt like this was something that I was good at.. She took no special care, although she got it. She was a very happy child and she blossomed from a baby to a busy little toddler in no time flat. We became so busy trying to make a stable and happy home for her that the next three years flew by. She had just returned from the beach with her aunt Jackie and was laying down in her room, I called her for supper and got no reply, walking into her room I spotted her legs sticking out from under the bed. “Watcha doing honey ?” I asked, she didn’t answer and I got cold all over. I lifted her bed up and she was laying on her tummy with her arms wrapped around her head, “Daddy it hurts she moaned” My heart was racing as I carried her to the living room calling for Teri. I phoned 911 as Teri put a cold cloth on her head. The next thing there were paramedics all around whispering to each other in hushed voices as they huddled around my girl. The machinery started that night, and stayed for the rest of her life. Pacing the floor of the hospital, my frustration welled up in me, I couldn’t help her, she was in the hands of “experts” and more importantly , she was in the hands of god. The doctors took us into a cold white room and informed us that our daughter had an inoperable brain tumor and was not expected to “make it”. My world came crashing down with a voice that smelled of garlic. My girl would never grow up, she would never hold my hand as a young lady, there would be no, grad dances or sleepovers, no homework or puppies. we did the best we could in those three months to be there for her but the thing in her head, that damn enemy from within, was slowly taking her from us. In this last week the ever present hum of the machinery buzzing , and the neutral voice over the intercom system, had begun to lull me into some sort of a false security, believing there would be one last chance, that she would wake up with that gentle little stretch she used to have and that everything would be alright. The doctors are here now, the machinery falls silent, she slips out of our life with out even a sigh. Teri is holding her and she is growing old before my eyes, we look across the bed over our sweet angel and the silent unanswered pleas in her eyes scream at me to fix this. I don’t know what to do or say, there’s a roaring sound inside my head and my hands are falling. They say time will heal, but right now I don’t want to heal, right now is my eternity.
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