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4 Entries
Walter and Doris Davis
November 20, 2008
Aunt Rose was the last of that generation.
I have such fond memories of her and Uncle Joe when they would take care of Lorraine & me.
I hope her last days were peacefull. She is now with Memere & Pepere Jalbert, her 7 sisters and 2 brothers and loving partners Joe & Wilfred.
Thank you Norman and Doris for the friendship and care you so generously gave Aunt Rose.
Doris Jalbert Davis
Darlene Rousseau
November 20, 2008
A Reminiscence
YES, thou art gone! and never more
Thy sunny smile shall gladden me;
But I may pass the old church door,
And pace the floor that covers thee.
May stand upon the cold, damp stone,
And think that, frozen, lies below
The lightest heart that I have known,
The kindest I shall ever know.
Yet, though I cannot see thee more,
'Tis still a comfort to have seen;
And though thy transient life is o'er,
'Tis sweet to think that thou hast been;
To think a soul so near divine,
Within a form so angel fair,
United to a heart like thine,
Has gladdened once our humble sphere.
By Anne Bronte
The Poetry Foundation
Darlene Rousseau
November 20, 2008
My Dear Sweet Aunt Rose
I will always remember all the great times I had with you when I was younger. One thing that always stuck out in my mind is when I was little you use to have me over your house in Southbridge and would take out all of your dresses and jewelry for me to play dress up. I had so much fun. You were always such a happy person, You always had a Beautiful smile at all times. A kind and Gentle Woman. You will be deaply missed by me and so many others. You will be Always Remembered.
Rest In Peace
I Love You!
Darlene
Laura (Robidoux) Brisbois
November 20, 2008
Nature
As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what we know.
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Poetry Foundation
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