Sunday, May 06, 2007

Janet Calia (Mrs. Dominick Enrico Calia)

"My son is 7 years old. I told him the seven years you had with dad is a lifetime, and some people don't even get that. It's the quality, not the quantity, that counts." Janet Calia
Welcome famous 9/11 widow, Janet Calia, wife of famous Cantor Fitzgerald bond broker, Dominick Enrico Calia, to our joy-ous club.
Dominick was 40 years old.
Dominick and Janet were married 10 years.
Janet was left with daughters Jeanna, and Jaclyn, and son Dominick.
Mourning Joy-ke:
Randy The Rooster
This farmer has about 200 hens, but no rooster, and he wants chicks. So he goes down the road to the next farmer and asks if he has a rooster for sale.

The other farmer says, "yeah, I've got this great rooster, named Randy: He'll service every chicken you've got, no problem."

Well, Randy the Rooster costs a lot of money, but the farmer decides he'd be worth it. So, he buys Randy. The farmer takes Randy home and sets him down in the barn yard, giving the rooster a pep talk.

"Randy, I want you to pace yourself now. You've got a lot of chickens to service here, and you cost me a lot of money and, I'll need you to do a good job. So, take your time and have some fun," the farmer says with a chuckle.

Randy seems to understand; so the farmer points toward the henhouse and Randy takes off like a shot. Wham--He nails every hen in there three or four times and the farmer is just shocked. Randy runs out of the hen house and sees a flock of geese down by the lake. Wham--He gets all the geese. Randy's up in the barn with the pigeons; he's in with the ducks. Randy is jumping on every fowl the farmer owns. The farmer is distraught, worried that his expensive rooster won't even last the day. Sure enough, the farmer goes to bed and upon awakening the next day finds Randy dead as a doorknob, still as a rock, in the middle of the yard.
Buzzards are circling overhead.
The farmer, saddened by the loss of such a colorful animal, shakes his head and says, "Oh Randy, I told you to pace yourself. I tried to get you to slow down, now look what you've done to yourself."
Randy opens one eye, nods toward the sky and says, "Shhh, they're getting closer."

Mourning Poem:

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the sparkle in the snow.
I am the shredded leaves that blow.
I am the sunlight on growing grain.
I am the gentle summer rain.
I am the quiet bird at night.
Circling about; Taking flight.
So do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.

Bianca (The Netherlands)

After we remember Him, fingerhug your pen.

Read today's mourning poem aloud.
What swirls your brain as your articulate each word?

What words light the landscape of your mind?

Set the timer for ten minutes.

Write something. Go ahead. I dare you.

Have a joyfilled day, Widows. And remember, we're not alone.



  1. Thanks for the laugh among the sadness here-- my heart goes out to all of the families who have experienced loss.

  2. Lovely poem. There's another version of this poem, with a movie, at, which might also bring some comfort.


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