I Miss You, My Friend.

by Asatar Bair on May 17, 2012

Photo courtesy of Stuart Williams

I miss you, my friend.

Dismay and sorrow well up

at the news of your passage.

When I picture your last moments,

it feels like a sacrilege.

Perhaps neither I nor anyone

really knew you well.

Was the story of your heart

too painful to tell?

Come to me now;

dwell in my heart for a time.

Your heart is low;

take my hand and let’s climb.

Let me remove these cobweb shadows

from your heart’s formless light.

There is more to your spirit

than this cold fog of night.

I feel your relief

as your heart expands.

May the Great Father and Mother

hold you tenderly, in both Hands.

* * * * *

This poem is written in honor of my friend Jon Gurrie, who recently died. I’d known him since high school.

Everyone has their own journey through life. This loss has brought me in touch with how connected we all are, even with the passing of years, and the physical distance between us, we are truly all One within the Heart of God.

The experience has also refreshed my experience that death is not really a barrier to being together; it is an initiation to a new life beyond this one.

Do you have an experience of grief to share? Please comment here.

Yours in the One Heart,



Linda May 17, 2012 at 3:01 pm

I am so sorry about your friend and your grief over his passing. I have found I am closer to some of my loved ones who have passed than I was before they died. I think it’s because of the love which does not stop growing when someone is gone. The bond is never broken.

I also want to thank you so much for the messages you send. They have encourged me, spurred me on, made me soften, and have given me hope for my journey.

Asatar Bair May 17, 2012 at 3:10 pm

Thank you, Linda. What you say is so true.
I appreciate your message very much. I’m so glad these posts have helped you.

Rob May 17, 2012 at 3:25 pm

Very thoughtful Asatar. Thank you for sharing.

Asatar Bair May 17, 2012 at 3:42 pm

Good to hear from you, Rob. Thank you for your note.

Donna May 17, 2012 at 3:35 pm

I am so sorry for your loss.

I would like to share a story about a relative who committed suicide. About eight years after her death, I had one of those dreams that is not a dream, but is a different reality. No set, no setting, nothing but a sense of her presence. She told me all about her dying and death process in very great detail, also implying that this is what her individual death was like, and that the experience wouldn’t be the same for others.

The next night, I saw her again, and she was starting to decorate her surrounding. I thought “Oh crap, is (x) going to haunt me now?” Because all communication in this space is telepathic, she “heard” my thoughts, and was startled, and I could “hear” her realizing that maybe she was violating some rule that restricts communication between the living and the dead (or embodied and disembodied, perhaps.)

I woke back up into this waking world, and have not dreamed of her since. But I feel confident that whereever she is now, and however much she suffered in life, she is okay now.

I hope that your friend is or will be fine, and that you find comfort in your grief.

Asatar Bair May 17, 2012 at 3:44 pm

Hi Donna,
Thank you for sharing this interesting story.
Amazing what we can learn and experience when we are open to it.

Liz May 17, 2012 at 4:00 pm

What beautiful words, I am sorry for your loss.
Last Friday, May 11th, was the anniversary of the murder of my daughter, Jennie, by her ex-husband. He called her at work and told her it was urgent, he had a plan, and he did not know how to tell their children. Why she went to his apartment alone that night I will never know. She was concerned about him and her goodness clouded her common sense.
The outpouring of love from her friends and our family at that time, and since, has shown me both the goodness of people, and the connection of all. I know she is in a place now where no one can hurt her ever again, and that gives me comfort. I long to be with her and miss her every day. Her youngest daughter graduated from 8th grade last night, and she looks so much like her sweet Mother that it takes my breath away.
Our broken hearts have simply been opened to others in distress, and Jennie’s friends and family host a volley ball tournament each summer to benefit a domestic shelter for women and children. Over $50,000.00 has been donated through this once a year tournament so far and it is such a tribute to the memory of beautiful, precious woman.
Thanks for sharing your grief.
Love and light to you,

Asatar Bair May 17, 2012 at 4:06 pm

Dear Liz,
Thank you for sharing your story. I am very moved by it.
It’s beautiful how you have turned your grief into service to others.

Nadeem May 18, 2012 at 2:39 am

Loves comes in so many disguises, grief and loss being one of them.

We as human have framed love as a rosy, jasmine scented energy but love is multi-faceted. Love has so many faces and we need to accept all of them. Love is like a light passing through the prism which break down into seven different colours on the other side of the prism. We are the prism and the seven different colours are the various feelings we need to integrate within so we can access to pure love (white light)

I remember when my father passed away i acted as if everything was ok. Its part of life. At that time i was living in my head. When i started meditating on my heart (Water breath) all this energy of grief welled up from me. I spent days integrating it. The energy was so dense that i would break into tears while meditating.

After assimilating this experience a completely new world opened to me. New wounds also were shown to me.

Through the loss of my father i learnt to appreciate all the people around me – especially my family.

Love liberates.

Love has many faces.

Sharing on FB.

Asatar Bair May 18, 2012 at 6:16 am

Thank you for sharing your story and your wisdom, Nadeem.
You are so right about the lessons of loss.

Nancy Bourque May 18, 2012 at 7:02 am


My sincere condolences go out to you in the loss of your friend.

This message hit home with me…my wonderful husband committed suicide 12 weeks ago….I found him in our basement, after shooting himself in the head. He also had attempted suicide two weeks prior~I found him in time laying behind our truck, very close to being gone at that particular time.

We were together 22 years. It’s horribly difficult to lose anyone, however, for me, losing Darrell to suicide has left the wound to stay open, wondering what else was troubling him that his doctors could not be of more help to him (aside from depression and words that could never be taken back by a family member of his). Many questions go through my mind daily~what could I have done more to help him? Why didn’t he feel he could tell me or his doctor and his therapist that he was hurting worse than he let on, etc? He was a retired high school Biology teacher/Coach for 38 years…a true inspiration to many~that’s why it’s so difficult to try to understand why he took his own life. His heart was enormous…he was always finding ways to do Random Acts of Kindness for others, and shared so deeply from his heart~he was a truly amazing man!

Six weeks after Darrell passed away, one of my classmates shot himself…plus, another young man shot himself. Our small community has questioned as to why 3 great men chose to take their lives within such a short period of time….all 3 very different ages. Our minister recently gave a sermon on suicide, after being asked to do so by the funeral director, to try and give the families and community support, as well as knowing there IS help for depression! Our minister is no stranger to suicide himself, as his own father took his life 46 yrs. ago. We have to learn to be aware of other people’s pain, the stress that every day life puts upon us, and, also, as in my husband’s case, cruel words spoken to him by one of his family members who said she never wanted to see him again! (Please understand~it was NOT me…in fact, she was angry at both of us…the next day was his first attempt to take his life). Words hurt or help others….some individuals become so self-absorbed, they lose sight of genuinely caring for others feelings….now this person has to live with her cruel words.

I’m very blessed to have the most kind, caring therapist….Dr. Tim Sippola, Emporia, KS.! I’m sure the name is very familiar to you…such an incredibly great therapist and individual! I am thankful for the knowledge and caring he shows, PLUS the knowledge he shares on HRM.

I usually never take a chance on responding to anything….however, Asatar, your words and recent loss of your friend, helped me to take a chance on saying openly, I understand the pain. My heart goes out to you and his family during this difficult time.


Nancy Bourque

Asatar Bair May 18, 2012 at 11:17 am

Nancy, my heart goes out to you in your time of grief. Thank you so much for sharing your story. How intense it must have been for you. I appreciate very much your kindness and your willingness to be open. And I’m glad to know you have support from Tim. He is a wonderful person. (He has written a long and interesting comment on this post that might interest you.)

Rod May 18, 2012 at 4:00 pm

Some aspects of this poem resemble my own experiences. My girlfriend suddenly and unexpectedly became ill and died. One evening she was fine and the next, she had passed away. I have a daily habit of touching my heart and allowing the presence of the love we shared together to enter it. It almost always enables to begin my day in with feelings of love and gratitude. Although I do miss actually living with her and there is no getting around the reality that type of loss entails, I really do feel that it is possible for love’s touch to transcend death in some way.

Asatar Bair May 18, 2012 at 7:39 pm

Dear Rod,
Thank you for sharing this story. I feel the sadness of your experience and I find it very beautiful how you have transformed it into love and gratitude.

Anne May 21, 2012 at 5:44 am

I feel your sorrow and I am touched by your heart-felt tribute and compassion. I too knew Jon and I knew some of his pain. Very sad but thank you for allowing me to feel some connection to another human being deeply touched by Jon. I do hope he feels the love.

Asatar Bair May 21, 2012 at 1:19 pm

Hi Anne,
I’m so glad the poem spoke to you. Thank you for writing.

Ed Gurrie (Jon's Dad) May 28, 2012 at 12:27 pm

This is a truly beautiful tribute to my sweet son Jon.
When he was the 5th or 6th grade he came home and told us he had won a class accolade that the teacher gave out every year. It was for the “Kindest Heart”. He was really PO’d because he wanted the “Best Athlete”!!
He was both brilliant and super sensitive to life around him. At our private Memorial Service held this past Sunday, the minister’s words rang in my ears. He mentioned that people like Jonathan have a tough time coping with this world and “sometime need to be excused”.
Jon you are truly excused. I will miss you more than anyone will know. Your spirit is in everything I touch in our nice woorshop we built together. I love you son and know you are in the arms of your lovely mom that passed when you were 5. God bless you.

Asatar Bair May 28, 2012 at 7:29 pm

Ed, thank you so much for reading this poem and sharing your reflections on Jon’s life and who he was. Sometimes we have a hard time appreciating our own great qualities. My heart goes out to you and I am so sorry for your loss.

Ajmal Khan June 25, 2012 at 3:56 am

I can go days without talking to you,
Months without seeing you,
But not a second goes by that
I don
Miss you…!

Asatar Bair June 25, 2012 at 12:38 pm

Thank you, Ajmal. I’m glad this poem spoke to you.

Jennifer August 10, 2012 at 5:46 am

Astar – I’m not sure if we ever met, but I am Jon’s sister. I recently googled his name and came across your post here. Thank you for the beautiful words. We are surely all connected, but the internet seems to make that much more apparent. I wanted to let you know that I recently started a blog, in Jon’s honor, in case you are interested in following it: http://jonliveson.blogspot.com/. Like you, I have found writing to be incredibly cathartic. Thank you again for honoring my brother.

Asatar Bair August 10, 2012 at 9:56 am

Hi Jennifer,
Thank you so much for your comment. Wow — I never considered that I’d come up in a Google search for Jon. And thank you for including the link to your blog. I will check it out. I’m so sorry for your loss, and I’m glad to see that you are writing. It seems that sharing your own grief has the ability to help others.
take care,

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