"Say Olin"

I found this poem in a book I am reading called "Say Olin To Say Goodbye" by Donald Hackett. It is about the death of his son Olin.
This poem really says everything I tried to say in my blog yesterday. As time moves on, others cannot help that they too move on. This loss wasn't directly yours, you hurt for me...but you cannot entirely understand the pain. But I thank everyone who has cried with me and still thinks of Ava. Please never stop saying her name to me. I do not cry because you have "hurt" me. I cry because you care and because I am healing. NEVER think that she has ceased to be of importance to me. She lives in my heart and everyday I think of her. Even when her siblings are born, she will be their big sister and I will still think of her....and you can still speak of her to me. Thank you.
If you don't know what to say...that is ok too. Like the poem says, I was in your shoes at one time. I understand. But don't say NOTHING because you think it will hurt. Just hearing how Ava has made you love your own children more makes me feel better. Telling me that everytime you see a butterfly or a star ora lightning bug to you it's her saying "hello".
Here is the poem.

"The time of concern is over.
No longer am I asked how my wife is doing.
Never is the name of our son mentioned to me.
A curtain descends.
The moment has passed.
A life slips from frequent recall.
There are exceptions: close and compassionate friends.
Sensitive and loving family.For most, the drama is over.
The spotlight is off.
Applause is silent.
But for me the play will never end.
The effects on me are timeless.
Say Olin to me.
On the stage of my life he has been both lead and supporting actor.
Do not tiptoe around the greatest event of my life.
Love does not die.
His name is written on my life.
The sound of his voice replays within my mind.
You feel he is dead.
I feel he is of the dead and still he lives.
He ghostwalks my soul, beckoning in future welcome.
You say he was my son.
I say he is.
Say Olin to me and say Olin again.
It hurts to bury his memory in silence.
What he was in flesh lies buried miles away.
What he is in spirit stirs within me always.
His of my past but he is part of my now.
He is my hope for the future.
You say not to remind me.
How little you understand I cannot forget.
I would not if I could.I understand you,
but feel pain in being forced to do so.I forgive you,
because you cannot know.
And I would forgive you anyway.
I accept how you see me,
But I understand that you see me not at all.
I strive not to judge you, for yesterday I was like you.
But I wish you could understand that I dwell both in flesh and spirit.
The mystery is that you do too, but know it not.
I do not ask you to walk this road.
The ascent is steep and the burden heavy.
I walk it not by choice.
I would rather walk with him in flesh,
Looking not to spirit roads beyond.
I am what I have to be.
What I have lost you cannot feel.
What I have gained you cannot see.
And I would not have you.
Say Olin for he is alive in me.
He and I will meet again, though in many ways we have never parted.
He and his life play light songs on my mind,
Sunrises and sunsets on my dreams.
He is real and shadow, was and is.
Say Olin to me and say Olin again.
He is my son and I love him as I always did.
Say Olin."